


The Horse With No Name

by Bonsim



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brothers, Corruption, Everyone is a Bit Broken, Family Drama, Gods, Multi, Post-Majin Buu Saga, Powerful Son Gohan, Slow Burn, Son Gohan-centric, Things Said and Done in Bad Taste, Time Skips, questionable decisions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 95,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27639052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonsim/pseuds/Bonsim
Summary: Some months after Buu, Gohan's walking the road paved out for him. He's studying for college, dating Videl, and enjoying normality. But normality is fragile, and Gohan doesn't know that he's on borrowed time. When Death takes him to his reawakened destiny, Gohan's dual nature pulls him between two very different lives; one of Gohan Son, and one of a god.Meanwhile, Goten Son is just trying to get through adolescence unscathed. Questionable feelings make him more confused than ever when dealing with a damaged family, hectic school life and saiyan powers unbefitting a teenager.A collision of worlds really might mean the end of the universe as both brothers know it.
Relationships: Son Gohan & Son Goku, Son Gohan & Son Goten, Videl Satan/Son Gohan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	1. Return to Sender

Gohan's bedtime routine has always been the same for as long as he can remember. First he would bathe. He's never been keen on morning showers as it could chance waking up Goten, and Sleeping Goten is a much easier Goten to deal with than Awake Goten. Next he'd have a cup of hot water, sipping at it slowly as he reads a book for thirty or so minutes. The book of choice is usually non-fiction because he's got to keep up to date on those studies, and who doesn't love _The Biography of Tom Lehrer_? After sliding the book under his bed, now donning a free library-given bookmark within, he'd turn off his bedside lamp and finally set his alarm clock for 06:00AM sharp; all before closing his eyes for the night.

It's all very samey-same, really.

His girlfriend often tells Gohan that he lives the life of an old man, but he tends to like stability, and the routine helps him study better.

His morning routine is no more exciting, with the occasional mix up of whether he'd have a full breakfast courtesy of his mother, or if he'd just grab a handful of fruit (depressing start-up to the day) before dashing off to school.

Tonight's routine offers little in the way of difference. Only, it does happen to be a particularly cold night, being mid-December. With frost tickling the frame of the window and the sharp wind beating at the glass, he nestles further into his covers and enjoys the contrasting warmth to its fullest. His eyes strain to see much through the window, trying to focus past the darkness and into the forest beyond. He can't see much, but he enjoys hearing the rustling trees shiver in the night.

With a beat of satisfaction, he turns back to his book and closes it with finality.

Gohan releases a sigh, and a cloud of breath along with it. He's finished his book, and his cup of hot water, and he now has fourteen minutes before it strikes ten.

Filled with a sudden sense of loss of what to do, he twiddles the bookmark between his fingers, dark eyebrows furrowed, as he thinks of a way to sink the time.

He _could_ text Videl goodnight.

Butterflies flutter about his stomach.

They've been dating for nearly four months, but they don't really message each other like a majority of their classmates do. It's actually Videl who bought him the phone in the first place.

" _Stop acting like a grandpa and learn how to use it."_

She's charming; that girl, he mulls with a shy sort of smile.

He'd love to be a bit better with technology, but of course, he's practically two left thumbs, and can barely work out how to turn the flipping thing on. Beyond very rarely calling her or occasionally accepting calls, he doesn't often touch it. Even his Saiyaman watch can prove to be a bit of a challenge to use sometimes.

Well, he thinks, bravely, as he eyes his rectangular device, he can try giving texting a go tonight.

_Er, how does it go again?_

Gohan paws the screen in hopes of Videl's name jumping out at him. He eventually finds it in the folder named 'contacts', and is slightly proud of himself when he's allowed to type out his message.

_[Hello, I thought I would wish you a goodnight. Yours sincerely, Gohan]_

There! Easy.

He glances at the clock: 21:52.

Oh- _oh_. Maybe it's a bit late to be messaging a girl, even if it is Videl. He doesn't want to give a bad impression. Messaging a girl this late… Anxiety bubbles in his stomach as he sets his alarm and turns off his bedside lamp. In the darkness, he swallows the lump of nerves.

A fine torrent of steam emits from his nostrils, just before it evaporates into the black.

Wow, it really is cold tonight.

He turns on his side, and the image of a joyous Videl makes him smile. The lack of reply probably just means that she's asleep.

Yeah, of course.

Oh well, he'll speak to her tomorrow at school anyway. His eyes find the darkness the window offers once more, focusing on the dancing silhouettes in the background. A sharp gale of wind rocks the house, lulling Gohan to succumb to his demanding drowsiness.

It's only moments later that the phone chimes in his hand, and the screen lights the room in a blue hue. But the message remains in the inbox. Not a single movement is made.

Every night Gohan is gone to the world by 10:00 o'clock sharp, and every morning he'd wake up at 06:00 when the ringing of his alarm would stir him. Except tomorrow it won't be Gohan turning off his alarm, but his father.

In fact, Gohan won't be waking up at all.


	2. Ivory and Gold

The smell of dewy morning grass greets Gohan from his slumber. It's earthy and almost too zesty-fresh straight after waking up; making him grumble and nestle further into his pillow, except, said pillow has become strangely not very comfortable and particularly itchy… and flowery.

He lunges forward, and then dark eyes open into a world of colour.

The grassy smell now erupts around him, and Gohan drinks in the vision of purples and greens exploding around him as the scent consumes. Its perfume, so potent, wonderfully fills his chest as he spirals his head. The face of foliage meets him. Trees everywhere, tall and proud, slowly sway their pink leaves at him in welcome, light against the dark shadows of the expanding forest behind.

Beyond that, smatters of beautiful pastel specks have been sketched out as delicate, water-kissed flowers. The dewy aroma hums from them as they sit before a stretched landscape of muted hills, hills which journey eternally against the lilac backdrop, growing and shrinking beneath a blanket of stars despite it very clearly being daytime.

The gradient of purple to green to pink feels soothing and so natural to stare at, and for a long moment Gohan thinks himself to still be asleep. Dreamlike glistening from the dewdrops cast dizzying glares from the sun and finally he finds it all too much to look at.

_Where am I?_

Water jumps in excitement when Gohan stands. It splashes the exposed skin of his calves, kissing the vulnerable area where his pyjama bottoms no longer cover. Last year's growth spurt made sure of that. As he walks along the padded grass, fine blades slicing between his toes, he looks around to try and gauge just where he's ended up. He remembers going to bed last night, but he certainly doesn't remember taking a midnight stroll into the forest, not that this forest looks anything like the one backing onto the Son house.

The strange colourings look very little like anything he's ever seen on Earth, instead reminding him of the planet Gohan had briefly been to when training with the Z-Sword. Is that where he is now? As Gohan looks around, he starts to feel unsure, and that's when the heavy scent only grows stronger. It's suddenly so thick Gohan feels like he can taste it in the air.

Sweet like spring, addictive like nothing he's ever tasted before, it pulls at his legs lovingly, gesturing like a mother, into its nest of blooming, cerulean flowers making its home near a collection of powdery, white trees. Larger than the other trees, they don't dance for him. Instead, they sit in waiting.

Lethargic against the ushering, he follows the fragrance trail all the way over to the snowy trees. Like the dew, they sparkle.

"Beautiful," he breathes, chest depleted.

In response, the ivory branches flare silver. The gentle spines on the leaves also breathe life as gold trails up and down, beating in rhythm as sunny dust illuminates the area in a warm glow. It circles, dances, flourishes, casting golden ash everywhere as Gohan whirls in confusion. In tandem, the aroma squeezes him ever tighter, stealing the oxygen from his lungs and replacing it with its own perfumed delicacy.

The gold, silver, and entrancing scent concocts together and Gohan feels like he's experiencing an entirely different sense than he'd ever thought possible. His heart crashes about its cage, beating in perfect synchronization with the whitened trees, of which waltz in their own artistry.

Gohan tries not to be consumed entirely by the experience, tries to understand what's happening. But nothing like this has ever happened to him before.

_It's killing me_. _I think I'm dying._

Yet something tells him that can't be true, the life around him is so vivid. Emotionally transparent, it's so clear to Gohan that whatever's happening to him is nothing evil –nothing _wrong_. When he goes to speak, however, he finds that he can't so much as utter a single word and that does scare him. Not a sound murmurs out.

In a vapid motion, Gohan brings his hands up to his chest. It thrums with such pressure he doesn't know where he begins and the tree ends.

" _Does it hurt for you to look upon me?"_ asks The Ivory Tree.

He stares up, lost. Not every day does Gohan converse with a tree. Finally, words are granted to him, gifted as the ease in his chest allows him some liberty.

"No," Gohan soon rasps. "Where am I? Who are you?"

The tree is silent, golden zigzags running down and through the leaves in occasional glimmers.

" _Then you are ready_ ," it finally concedes to him.

"I don't understand," Gohan's brows furrow, "who are you? I-"

A billow of energy, ki he can't sense, rains down in thin, fine drops, but heavily. His knees give out and he collapses against the field of blue, petals scattering madly. They climb up into the lilac sky, volleying between gold and silver as the tree grows tall. Branches crackle; snap as Gohan watches in a stupor from the floor.

The gold streams through the leaves, down the braches, coursing down the thick trunk and through spindly roots before shining under the flowerbeds. The glow is bright; it makes Gohan wince, but only briefly before making him wail.

The gold had crept up his pyjamas and along his skin much alike a shadow chasing twilight. Rapid, it makes its move –its attack. The streak bleeds his world bright, blinding him as the golden haze pulsates and absorbs into his eyes. They burn, hot and bright like the sun, as white flashes carve against his vision. His hands, no longer lulling, scramble and claw at his face, and the unmistakable wetness beneath his nails doesn't surprise him. The breaking of skin –while it hurts- doesn't account to a fraction of the searing horror assaulting his eyes. Never before has Gohan wanted to tear a piece of his body free like this.

"Stop it!" he calls out, falling against the flowers. "Make it _stop!_ "

If anything the pain two-folds, and he _screams_. He screams so much that he doesn't remember succumbing to the agony. He's swallowed, watching as the gold fades to black as The Ivory Tree's words follow him to the abyss.

" _The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die. As well the minds which are prevented from adapting; they cease to be just that. You are the skin no more, my child."_

The black is cold, empty.

And then it's gone –just like that. Amongst the foliage and pastel colours, he stands alone in his golden, bleeding glory. The tree is only but a tree now. The glistening whiteness seems to have evaporated into the darkness, journeying off together with it to who knows where. The gold, gifted to him, stays however. It colours his pale skin warm, coating him in something ethereal and holy.

He looks down at his hands, examining them as the gold slowly dims.

_Just where am I? Who was that?_

His hands clench into tight fists, a frown pulling at his cheeks with equal tightness.

_More like… what was that?_

Squawks sound from behind him, reminding Gohan that he's still lost within this strange forest. Chirps and odd little noises from insects chorus from all around. The flowers practically vibrate with life. As he clambers back to his feet he tries not to think about the ache around his eyes, or the red which stains his fingers. He walks through the blue flowers, far away from the nestle of trees, and back the way he came through until he reaches a clearing. Kempt fields comb through the wild grasslands, ones framed by aged, brown brickwork of walls and paving. Vines in a rainbow of colours thread through and around the dour structures, knotting together to form a direct path for Gohan to follow.

The walkway must lead somewhere, or at least, Gohan hopes so, because he's following it with growing urgency. None of these surroundings look like anything to do with the forests he's seen growing around his home, and the suspicion that this might not be Earth only increases when he stumbles upon a large, foreboding building in the distance. Writing, completely foreign to him, is scrawled is in a flowing mixture of shapes and dots. It sits upon a sign leading towards said building and reads unlike anything he's comes across in his studies.

His fingers trace the groove of the etchings.

"Where am I?"

Only the creaking of the sign answers back, and all he can do is stand there in a stunned silence.

A heavy gust of breath drains from him.

Onwards he walks, passing countless more trees, flowers and the gleaming of yellowed eyes between them. As strong as Gohan is, he doesn't want a run in with any weird creatures that might be dwelling out there. He picks up his pace when he hears a low rumble from deep within darkness, and when it sounds out again, he takes to the sky in an awkward take-off.

_Strange. My ki feels… off here._

It's as if he suddenly had to use his left hand instead of his right hand to write. Calling upon his energy feels kind of skewed, making his form pull ever so slightly to the right as he courses through the sky. Gohan's always been a good flier, and he's always had decent form, so why his body is suddenly rebelling against him is lost on him. A pang of worry strikes.

First he wakes up in the middle of nowhere; next, those abnormal albino trees lured him in with their horrible (wonderful) scent, and now, he can't do something as simple as propel through the air. Gosh, he hopes those trees didn't do something to him. He really doesn't like any of this at all.

He hovers only a few feet above the ground, flittering gracelessly as he tries to catch his footing. Just as his toes tap the coolness of brick does he feel fingers clasp around his throat.

Gohan's reactions are good. He presses backwards against the assailant, knocking his head back and catching them with a direct and hard strike. Immediately, the person lets go, momentarily winded, and so Gohan pulls forward, swivelling low and striking with a stretched leg. But there's no one there to catch, no one until they reappear behind him once again, catching both his blindside and his forearm. So he tries the same thing once again. But the attacker is fast, dodging and catching Gohan's other arm in a merciless vice.

A growl of frustration bubbles at the back of the teenager's throat as the grip tightens. Whoever this is has a heck of a grasp, twisting Gohan's arms just enough to hurt something rotten but not enough to break them.

"Who are you?" he growls. "Why are you doing this?"

"You dare disrespect this land and yet you question _me_?" comes the reply, surprising Gohan as he recognizes the smooth tones of a woman. "Why are you here? These lands are sacred and you have no right, mortal."

"M-mortal?" Gohan stiffens. "Uwah, so this really is the Planet of the Kais-ow, ow, _ow!_ "

"Do not play stupid, _mortal_ ," she hisses, twisting both his arms so tightly that he starts to see stars.

"I'm… I'm not!" he insists through clenched teeth as his body is forced to sink and buckle against the grass. A boot imprints sharply against his spine. "Argh! Just—just give me chance to-"

"Who sent you? The Zealites employing mortals now? Speak up. I do quite enjoy a good laugh."

"I don't know who that is!"

"Liar!"

Something in his shoulder cracks as he's forced against the dirt. Good heavens, just who even is this woman? Gohan knows he's been slacking just a little bit with his training recently (finals in school are coming up) but this is ridiculous. She's making mincemeat out of him!

_Enough of this._

A jet of energy waves out, harsh and jagged as it cuts at both the air and the woman. The grip is released and with resolve, the teenager bounces back to his feet and several steps away. Another blast leaves him just so he can ensure the distance. However, the wave is bigger than expected. It laps out as a huge, unforgiving slew of force, slicing down many of the surrounding trees. Bricks become dislodged from the road, pulling into the orbit of the gust. They batter down at Gohan's assailant before he even has the chance to look at her.

"Wha-"

It's as if his ki has been amplified, uncontrollable against Gohan's usually tight reins, as it lashes out with yet another wave. Gold sparks dazzle in the chaos, causing friction against the bricks as they circle around the plain.

Then, it stops.

The bricks fall, the gold fades, and Gohan is whirled feet backwards and into the remains of an aging wall. Dust explodes everywhere upon the impact. Eventually, he stumbles up, emerging from the clouds of smoke, horrified at the betrayal of his own ki.

It's never done that before!

_What the heck was that?!_

"Got some fireworks about you, huh?"

Gohan turns just in time to catch a gloved fist in the palm of his hand. Attached, is a thickly-built woman. She's not much smaller than him, with tanned skin and a long, dirty-blonde plait which chases her as she aims another punch in his direction. He catches that one too. It doesn't deter her however, as a nasty heat butt sends him back to the floor.

Blood streaks down and catches his eyelashes as he watches her saunter over him. She's bleeding too. Just as heavily from a matching wound on her head.

She smears it away from her eyes. "Just what the hell is your head made from?"

He doesn't answer her, instead swiping her legs and turning to make a run for it.

"Coward," she growls, refusing to fall.

Her calves are pure steel. They don't budge an inch against Gohan's, firm and impossible to sway. He doesn't even have enough time to get away as she grabs at his shirt, dragging him up high. As much as Gohan loathes the idea of hitting a woman he's finding that he may have little choice here. She's clearly very strong, and from her outfit Gohan can tell that she's someone of importance. Bright, her grey armour glistens in the daylight. It's shiny and comes across as expensive looking as he stares down at his own blurred reflection. Beyond that, sits a crest in the centre of her breastplate. Gohan notices that it's a silhouette of a horse, one mid-gallop with its mane wild and free about the wind.

Gohan's shuffled in her grasp, and she barks a laugh. "See something you like?"

_What?_

He's shuffled again. "Eyes up here."

_Huh? Wha—ah!_

Oh God. His eyes snatch upwards as his face _burns_ from the shame of it, ears sizzling.

"I-I wasn't looking at them! No! Ah, I mean, I-"

"Such a cute one," she snorts, amused, "something tells me that you wouldn't know what to do with them anyway."

His legs tuck upwards out of instinct as he feels his cheeks grow pinker and pinker. "It's not like that!"

"It's of no difference to me. The rabbit's opinion of the fox has little relevance in the end." She tilts her head, plait and blood flailing sideways. "Before I end you by my own hand do you have any lasting words?"

Gohan won't go down easily. If she really wants a fight he'll give her one -but why does it have to be that way? Can't they talk about this?

"There's been some kind of mistake! I-I just woke up! I don't know how I got here!"

"Impossible," she spits, "one doesn't just _wake up here_. This is the Realm of the Almighty! Don't believe I'm stupid for a second, mortal. We've seen your type crawling around here for years now, scurrying about like the rats you are, hoping to gather any information you can for your masters." She lowers him just enough to get a good look of his face. "Don't think you… can… fool… me."

Her mouth hangs there, words decayed, and for a second Gohan thinks he's somehow broken her because she doesn't move for a good while. She just stares at him, eyes wide and unblinking as the red leaks into them.

"I… Impos… no…"

She drops him, and because he doesn't expect it he falls gracelessly to his bottom.

Her hand levels up as a beam of ki dances about her gloved palm. It spirals threateningly in Gohan's face. "Who are you? Tell me your name!"

The glow dramatically skews when he doesn't immediately answer, and her ki feels sharp and nasty all of a sudden.

"Stop it," he says. Sticking a ball of energy in his face has very rarely gotten him to speak in the past. Today is not the day that it starts. "Put out the attack."

" _Name_."

"When you lower your hand," he tries carefully, eyes low and submissive. They don't need to fight –especially considering that he has no idea what had just gone on back there with his ki. Just what at the heck was that?

Whatever it had been deeply unsettles him.

"Just lower your hand," Gohan repeats, softer this time. "We don't have to do this."

Just as Gohan expects her to comply he hears a piercing whistle in the forest behind. It's a long and drawn-out sound, one which the woman repeats. He has to cover his ears from the shrillness of it. Another whistle is returned and as soon as Gohan turns to look behind he's brutishly wrestled down to the floor by the woman. He tastes the grass and its sprinkled dew when he hits the ground hard.

"You stay down," she orders.

Her knee sits on the base of his neck just in case he dares defy her –which he would if not for the group of armour-clad soldiers emerging from behind the trees in droves. Eight, nine, ten… fourteen, fifteen… He keeps counting until so many appear that he may as well not bother at all.

"Where's Lord Rixas?" asks the woman.

"Southwards, Captain," replies one of the men. He has blue skin and thin, pointed ears; definitely not human. "He's been training in the courtyard since dawn."

"Figures." She scoffs and flicks her plait from over her shoulder. "Someone give word to him that I've found a person of interest, and that I require his _immediate_ assistance."

"But, Capt-"

"And don't let him give you any of his usual bullshit. Tell him to meet me at the Winter Pavilion as soon as he can."

"The Winter Pavilion, Captain?"

Gohan grunts as her knee presses deeper in his neck. He wishes they'd stop angering her.

"Did I stutter? Yes, The Winter Pavilion. I don't want this getting back to the barracks. That means none of you are permitted to speak about this to anyone. As far as you're all concerned we came up empty on today's patrol. Do you understand?"

A low rumble of murmurs ripples about the crowd. Good heavens, just how many soldiers are out there?

"You're bleeding… Did… did this mortal-"

The knee lodges impossibly hard, so much so Gohan splutters as she snarls an ugly sound. "Do you _understand_?"

The blue soldier's arm waves in a long half circle before resting on his chest. He and the countless others finally holler out an affirming; "Yes, Captain!" before making haste.

Quiet rustling of foliage and the unforgettable hushing sound of energy echoes into the background as Gohan and the captain watch on. He can't see much from his position. The world is slanted and shaded rosy from the blood as soldiers disappear left, right and centre into the thick greenery.

By this point Gohan's sure that his head might just pop off. His hand reaches out to tap at the ground to show his surrender, to show his compliance.

"Oh, give me a break," she says but gives him leniency all the same.

The pressure lessens just enough for Gohan to get one good splutter out. Another cough follows as his hand rings around his throat in a bid to encourage a better oxygen flow. When he's hoisted up like a rag doll, he yelps, choking on the fresh air. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"How would you like to get to where we're going? Would you like to walk like a respectable individual or would you rather me carry you like the baby mortal you are?"

"I'm seventeen!"

"Oh? In what years?"

"Er… Earth…"

She clicks her tongue. "An infant…tch, less than."

"You know Earth?" Gohan questions. "Okay, put me down. I'll walk -I'll _walk_."

She does, and he immediately pulls away from her, bristling. The captain doesn't so much as make a move to retrieve him and that unsettles Gohan just a bit. She's clearly very confident in her own prowess, understandably so considering she just managed to floor him in less than five minutes. Maybe if he'd been fighting seriously he could have caused some damage. Whilst he hadn't been using a fraction of his full strength something tells him it wouldn't have been as simple as that.

He considers her as she considers him. There's something about the way she looks at him that unnerves the teenager, makes him fidget as he can't read the emotion batting about her thinned, brown eyes.

"This way," she eventually says.

It almost sounds cordial for her so he does as requested, lingering behind as she leads them through the density of trees.

"Where are we going?" he asks, swatting away the leaves and branches she leaves about her trail.

"The Winter Pavilion," she surprisingly replies. "It's not far from here. Do your best to keep up, and don't even think about making a run for it. I'll snap both of your legs before you even make it fifty feet away."

"Why," Gohan begins, trying his best to bounce over curled tree roots and sly thorns, "don't we just fly there?"

The captain whirls around and Gohan barges into her. The plait nearly smacks him in the face.

"We do _not_ fly here!" she snaps. "This is a sacred place where only the select few may rise higher above the rest. Should I see you fly again or even think about flying I'll make it my duty to carry you."

"Err… oh, okay. I'll keep that in mind. Sorry, I didn't mean to… er… Is it disrespectful to your culture or something?"

She pulls back a branch and Gohan swears she makes it slap him on purpose. It stings long after they pass through the next section of trees.

"Mortals shouldn't even be here on this sacred land," the captain chides, "but flying? Not even the noblest do it so frivolously here. If you fly then you do it with reason, not to so simply get from one place to another."

"Oh, er, I see." The teenager scratches at the back of his head. Flying long since became second nature to him. "So it's aggressive?"

"Uppity," she supplies simply, and then stops.

Gohan stops too as they've finally reached the forest edge, and now find themselves looking at a grand, ivy-draped building sitting across a body of water. It's made from the similar patchwork of bricks he'd seen earlier in the forest. Perhaps this is where it had led to –perhaps this had been the building he'd earlier spotted in the distance.

He approaches warily, somewhat struggling to keep up with the captain and her no nonsense speed.

A little ki-use wouldn't go a miss here. Actually, they'd be able to get up to the entryway up ahead much quicker if they just used their energy… even if Gohan's energy seems to not be cooperating quite as well as usual. Perhaps it's this place? Perhaps the sacred life force of this planet has something off about it, something which knocks the control of ki.

_Or maybe it was that tree…_

Gohan brushes a hand through his hair, dismaying. Everything about all of this makes him horribly uneasy, chiefly how the captain keeps looking back at him to make sure that he's still following.

Gohan coughs awkwardly. "So, are there any special culture rules here?" he then asks just to be polite. She turns and gives him an unimpressed look. "N-no! I'm being serious!"

It goes ignored and he starts to feel anxious. Last night had just been as normal a night as any, so how he's ended up on this mystery planet –or realm- is a complete mystery to him. Did someone use the dragon balls? Did Kibito Kai bring him here? Just what's going on? He frowns, feeling a little sick. Hopefully his family aren't too worried about him, and he just prays that he'll get some answers soon. From the conversation he'd overheard between the captain and those soldiers they're off to meet a lord. Either the meeting will answer some of Gohan's questions or…

His knuckles crack in anticipation.

Gohan swallows the discomfort. No, it won't come to that. He'll be fine. The lord will assist Gohan… Surely, he will.

He looks up and drinks up the image of the structure. The place is pretty big, with its looming, magnificent archways, ones that angle dramatically against the lilac sky and disappear into small points at the top. Gold delicately spirals around the build, coating the brown in that strange, spotted language he'd seen earlier.

"Can you read it?" asks the captain. She's wearing that strange look again.

Gohan doesn't like it. He hates the way her eyes pierce him with questions no asked.

"No, I can't."

She hums thoughtfully, petting the arch and turning to admire the splendour of the foreboding architecture. "I'm surprised you didn't put up more of a fight. Usually you mortals are quite feisty."

"Why fight if we don't have to?" Gohan asks.

Another long stare follows and the teenager just has to look away. Why does she keep doing that?

Awkwardly, Gohan focuses upon the ugly, brass door they're now approaching. It cuts into the wall of ivy and into the purple, curling flowers and neatly presses against the stonework. Gohan can tell its old just from the condition of it. Discolour kisses the corners, growing sporadically like Vitiligo exploring the skin. It leaks upwards against the metal as wears and tears cut into the fine design, marring the polished home place of more swirls and dots.

A matching set of windows neighbour the door but Gohan can't see inside. If anything, it looks dark and abandoned, offering little in the way of what to expect. His gut instinct tells him not to enter, to run away –no, to _fly_ away- but he supposes that he may just get answers to his questions faster should he cooperate.

Then, the door opens and an ocean of black beckons him in.

_Oh, I'm not sure about this._

"After you," she says as Gohan lingers about the entryway.

He nods, brows creased. They knot together against the crispy dried blood.

"It's kind of dark in here," he tells her, unsure, but takes a step into the room regardless.

There's an eeriness to the shady nature of the room. Gohan can't see beyond an arm's reach as he scuttles ever deeper into the building and further away from the natural light outside. Whilst he's not at all the scaredy-cat he'd been as a little boy, he's still not overly fond of being stuck in dark unknown places with ruthless strangers.

Still, it oddly annoys him when he hears her laugh from behind.

"Baby mortal afraid?"

"No," he lies, and takes a bigger step just to prove her wrong.

That's when crunching begins to echo throughout the chamber, growling underfoot. Gohan startles backwards as he feels the floor vertebrate, loosening and crumbling beneath his toes as he checker-bounces back to where he'd started.

"Oh yes, it's quite old. Do be careful," she remarks as she takes a path east of the entrance.

Gohan glares at the back of her armour as she moves. "Y-yes, thanks."

He keeps close to her, shadowing her in the black. Not even the light from outside can see them now, and the only thing he can pick up is the smell of damp, decaying wood. Flying would be the common sense approach to this but he doesn't want her to get angry with him again. Even mentioning it might cause an adverse reaction. So he copies her steps, jumping after she does, tip-toeing in her stead. Only when she gestures for him to go through yet another door first does he have a problem.

"I don't trust you," he tells her honestly.

She laughs. It sounds foreign after hearing her grunt and snarl at him over the last hour or so. "Excellent, then you're not as stupid as I'd thought. But I don't really have the time or patience for your complaining so I would appreciate you just doing as asked."

_Asked or told…_

"We're moving deeper into this decrepit fort. There's no-one else here. " Gohan says. "You could be taking me into a trap."

"Of course I'm taking you into a trap."

"Wh-what?"

"You're my prisoner, not my travel companion. Get moving."

Gohan swivels, his foot slamming through rotted wood. "You're kidding me!"

"Look, mortal, I'm taking you to my lord. You've piqued my interest just enough for me not to slaughter you where you stand. Why not count your blessings?"

The teenager hits a fist against the doorframe behind, shaking the fragile building hard. It groans as dust rains down from the ceiling.

"I just woke up here!" he shouts, "I woke up, stumbled around for a bit until I was attacked by a _tree_ , a tree! Then I ran into you only to be attacked _again_ , and now you're taking my down into your lair for what -I don't know! I already told you that I have no idea what I'm doing here –I don't even know how I got here, or why I'm here. This is like the kai world, right? I know the Supreme Kai, or rather, Kibito Kai. You can ask him-"

"Ehhh, did you say a tree attacked you?"

Gohan stiffens at the new voice. It dwells from beyond the door he'd just refused to enter.

"Lord Rixas," the captain greets.

The chasm of black offers a pair of gold lights, twinkling dangerously together in the gloom. A long moment passes for the teenager to realise that he's actually looking at a pair of eyes. They pierce into Gohan's in a manner he's never quite seen before, unsettling him to his very core as their shrill, golden glow steals his breath away.

And suddenly, a light flickers between them and Gohan finds himself a breath away from a hovering ball of ki. It's not at all dangerous; gifting the drab surroundings a yellow radiance; highlighting the faces of everyone in the space and emitting a warm waft as it does so. It's the lord's energy, energy which doesn't feel hostile whatsoever, it almost feels inviting, cosy; warm after a long day in the snow.

It feels like home.

The lord bounces forward, moving impossibly close and into Gohan's space. He's quick to grab at Gohan's shoulder with immeasurable strength.

The man's voice shakes. "What… what the…"

The lord doesn't look anything like a lord at all. He's a tall man; firm with muscle of which protrudes under sun kissed skin. His clothes are raggedy and not lord-like at all, making this lord look less like nobility and more like an everyday college student Gohan's seen loitering about Satan City.

Under the shaggy mop of blonde hair, those unbelievably intense spheres of gold balloon in utter shock. They grow and wobble, pinning Gohan.

Then the unthinkable happens. Two hands grasp either side of the teenager's cheeks.

"No…" the lord breathes, squeezing them, "impossible."

"That's what I said," comments the captain. "So do you think…?"

"I… I don't know."

Gohan tries to pull free of the grasp, but like the woman, the man is inhumanely strong. He cranes the teenager's face in order to get a better look, devouring Gohan's terrified expression with rapid interest.

"A trick… Lord Rixas?" she asks. Gohan tries to turn to look at her, to see if she's wearing that curious expression she'd been wearing near enough the entire time he'd been in her company, but the brutish hold on him is stubborn.

"Err…" the teenager tries between squashed cheeks, "do you think you can let go now?"

The man, Lord Rixas, starts and looks like he won't move for an instance, but then the hands slowly pull back; falling against Gohan's reddened skin. His golden expression is warped by the twist of confusion, the flickering of his eyes –the way he seems to drink in Gohan's face with unnerving intensity.

"Leave us," he finally whispers.

Gohan originally thinks that he's referring to him and goes to move, feeling lighter at the idea of it, but is grasped by his upper arm by the lord as the captain silently disappears into the shadows. They seem to perpetually go on forever, making him feel exceedingly more trapped by the second.

_If it gets weird then I'll just have to blow my way out of here, mysteriously affected ki or not._

The vice around his arm pulls Gohan through the door without so much giving him the choice, the dark rupturing around them as the ball of ki follows through the thin passageway. It bounces between the walls, lighting candles as it goes.

"Look," Gohan attempts, "there's been a mistake. I didn't mean to trespass here. I just woke up. I'm really sorry if I've caused some prob—uh…"

They've now reached another door, one equally as grand and impressive as the entrance's had been.

"Really, I'm sor—uh, where are we going?"

It opens and Lord Rixas drags him through and into a world of light.

It's actually so bright that Gohan flinches, his hand automatically reaching up to shield against the offending break of daylight. Beside the door they'd just entered sits an assembly of windows, ones that don't look as tired as the ones he'd earlier seen but equally as ancient. Wherever they are now isn't at all dilapidated. It's an old-fashioned drawing room, one littered with books and papers. However, with its masses of bookshelves and desks, it's probably more akin to a study if not for the alcove of armchairs poised together in ready for congregation.

As he's dragged onwards Gohan nearly trips over a stack of scrawls. "Was that a secret entrance or something?"

Lord Rixas continues to ignore him, but does manage to deposit him into a wooden chair.

"Er…"

**Crack!**

A fist then launches into the space beside Gohan, sending cracks rocketing in every direction. The teenager frazzles. Another punch is aimed towards the opposing side of him and Gohan jumps again. The severity of raw power being emit from this guy is just astounding.

Lord Rixas leans in close, unnervingly so. Gohan feels breath beating down on his face, but he refuses to look away. Even as those eyes pin him and make him squirm, Gohan doesn't wilt. His dad raised him better than that.

He steels his gaze.

Momentary silence hangs between them, thick with tension. But when Gohan goes to speak he's interrupted unexpectedly with a string of foreign words. The lord speaks at him rapidly in a language Gohan doesn't recognize. The wisps and rolling syllables make his head spin.

"I –I don't understand!" he says, ignored as the lord goes on and on.

The words become louder and Gohan has to shout again as the lord grows frantic. Suddenly, the words come to a halt, and Lord Rixas appears utterly anguished.

He presses forehead low against Gohan's, of who sits in quiet horror.

Finally he speaks once more.

"You've come home, brother."


	3. Little Brother

_Brother…_

Gohan recoils from the man.

"W-woah, too close," he says, slipping left and under Lord Rixas' arm, stumbling sideways and nearly over a heap of books piled high.

The lord turns and watches him with that ever hungry gaze.

"I know it's you," Lord Rixas then says, only narrowly missing Gohan's arm by millimetres. He follows the teenager past a row of bookcases and over to a nearby window. Somehow they've ended up at least four or five stories high above the forest. "Brother, I know it's you. I'm not stupid."

"Look, you've got the wrong idea," Gohan replies. "I just woke up here –in this place- and I want to go home back to Earth. You know it, right?"

The lord halts, downright confused. "Earth?"

"Planet Earth," he tries. The captain had known it. "You're important, right, er, sir? I just want to get home and back to my family-"

Lord Rixas' face twists almost comically. The passionate gold about his eyes dims into something easier to pallet and he breathes out a laugh, one wrought with nerves. "Oh my God, what did you just call me? _Sir_?"

Gohan blanches. "Is that rude? Shoul-"

"Brother - _Mori_ ," Lord Rixas interrupts, "what are you saying? Earth? I… you… just where have you been? We thought you were d-"

"No, no! I'm _Gohan_!" He bats his hands. "My name is Gohan and I'm from Earth."

Another hand grabs at the teenager's, mid-flap.

"Brother," Lord Rixas repeats with a heavy look. He pushes forward, forcing Gohan further and further back against the window. "Little brother… you're alive."

Painfully uncomfortable, Gohan presses firm against the window frame, eying up the possible escape route of greenery in the distance. He'll fly if he has to. With how intensely this weirdo is looking at him it might just escalate into something more.

"I'm really sorry; there's been some kind of mistake here. I'm not this Mori guy," he attempts cordially as he tries to pull his hand back. Lord Rixas doesn't even flinch. "My name is _Gohan_. I'm from planet Ear-"

"Ehh, what are you talking about? Mori, we have your mask. How did you-"

Gohan tugs harder against the grasp. "I'm not your brother!"

When Lord Rixas reaches out for his face, Gohan withdraws with such force that he feels something in his wrist crack. He hisses and is only finally released after another firm jolt, one which plummets him hard against the window itself, and hard enough for it to smash. Gohan falls through before the lord can even react. Glass flies everywhere as golden eyes watch in shock as the teenager descends, widening ever more as Gohan struggles to summon his ki.

The image of the lord becomes smaller and smaller as Gohan drops. The young man tries to call upon his energy. He attempts to fly, to catch his footing, but finds that his ki is, yet again, not cooperating. Just as a flicker starts to emerge, Gohan feels something hard hit the back of his head.

He blacks out.

* * *

**Age 780**

**(Six years later)**

**Orange Star High School, Satan City, Earth**

"This is the third time, Mr Son, that I've had you in my office this week. I feel like I'm seeing you more than I see my own wife these days." The Principle pushes up his glasses as he stares at the raggedy teenager from the other side of his desk. He waves a piece of paper about with dramatic flair. "According to this, you drew a very realistic drawing of Miss Staples on the blackboard; one where she was… nude."

"That's not right," off-hands the teenager, casually slouching in, what he sees as, _his_ chair. "She's totally wearing a coconut bikini set. I have some class, sir."

The Principle slams the paper down, coughing. "Goten Son! Blatant disrespect in this school is _not_ tolerated. Miss Staples should not have to be worried about how you're going to cause havoc in her classroom week after week. Your attitude is atrocious and your grades aren't much better! Coconut bikini or not, you do _not_ use school-funded materials to draw anything you fancy where ever you like. Would you behave like this at home?"

Goten wilts, retorting under his breath; "which one?"

The Principle pauses, flashing Goten the sickening look of sympathy he gets whenever it comes to calling his parents. Goten doesn't get it. It's not a big deal. Really, it isn't.

He sinks lower into the chair, arms crossed and lip pulled upwards.

"If you're gonna' call one then call my dad," he then instructs, digging his hand deep into a thick set of spikes. They could hardly be called spikes now as they spill over and are nearly long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail. No doubt the school will bitch at him about that too.

"Call your dad? After last time I think we'll try your mother."

Goten groans.

"Not my mum, please. I'll take the detentions, the clean-up duties, _anything_."

But the number has already been dialled and the phone now neatly presses besides the Principle's chubby cheek. "Perhaps you should have thought about this before –ah, hello, yes, is this Mrs Son? Ah, ah, hello, yes, this is Principal Wargrove. Sorry to be interrupting your day but we have Gote—yes, _again_." A look is spared upwards at the teenager, one received with a scowl and awkward shuffle. "That's right. Yes, _yes."_

Goten rubs his face, groaning. God, they may as well just be friends with how much they yammer on the phone every time. As the chunky, idiotic principle relays Goten's misdeeds, he allows himself to sulk and slightly regret his actions if only for being caught. One of the girls in his class must have ratted him out again. He's not exactly the most popular with them as Trunks now must have dated nearly half of the class by now; making most of them turn on Goten like _he's_ the one that discarded them after a week. Pah…

_Being best friends with a playboy isn't exactly what it's cracked up to be._

He thinks this as he notices a mop of lavender-coloured hair bob behind the glass of the office's door. Goten snorts. Trunks is going to have a front row seat to his best friend's slaughter.

Yet, it doesn't come.

The phone hangs up and the Principle looks visibly disappointed.

"Your mother can't come," he says sourly as Goten mentally thanks his luckiest stars. "But she's sending a family friend to take you home."

"A family friend?"

The Principle grumbles, coughing to clear his throat again. Clearly a smoker. "Yes. Consider yourself lucky for now, but she sounds equally as frustrated as we are, Goten. Just when are you going to grow out of these juvenile pranks?"

Goten lolls his head back, already clocking out as the long-winded speech about maturity and schooling is rabbled at him. He nearly falls asleep. Only when the Principle's chair scrapes out does Goten jolt to his senses.

"You've got some growing up to do, young man," he says simply, standing. His bespectacled gaze turns over to where Trunks is hiding. The purple blip seems to have gone unnoticed however, as the Principal's attention is now focused on the new individual entering the room.

Goten turns too, before swivelling back around and covering his face, mortified.

The person strides past Goten and his cherry-coloured cheeks and straight over to the Principle. They shake hands. "I was covering a case a block over so Mrs Son asked me to come over."

"Miss Satan, wow! It really _has_ been a long time!" the sad, old dolt for a Principle gushes as he jumps in glee. What a geezer. "I haven't seen you since your graduation."

"Yeah, it's been a long time," Videl replies, "the school hasn't changed much. It's a shame we have to meet under _these_ ," she angles a pointed look at Goten, "circumstances."

To his credit, Goten does appear red-faced and ashamed. Calling Videl from work was a dirty move on his mother's part.

"No bother, no bother," the Principal brushes over. It's so blatantly obvious he's star-stuck; disgusting considering Videl used to be a student here herself. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, that's alright," she says, folding her arms and tapping her fingers over her blazer. She's still in her work clothes so she really must have just dashed out of whatever office she'd just been in. It's the only time Goten sees her in a skirt, as her law office has a strict dress-to-intimidate attitude Videl loathes to abide by. She's still new at the firm so she's trying not to ruffle any feathers just yet; something which Goten knows must absolutely be killing her.

Yet, here Videl Satan is in all her glory, bare-legged and four inches taller in heels. Goten does not disapprove.

He watches on as the Principle and Videl exchange sickly-sweet pleasantries, trying not to barf as she actually signs a yearbook for him. They joke, laugh and reminisce. The entire display is enough to make Goten nauseous.

"Okay, I best get this menace home," she finally announces. Her hand slaps lightly at the back of his head, signalling that it's time to make their great escape. Her smile is forced. She probably hates being here about as much as he does. "I'm sure his mother has a lot she wants to say to him."

"Of course, though I'm sorry to have to drag you away from work. It must be very taxing to work in law."

"It'll be worth it in the end." She shoves at Goten's shoulders to hurry him along, before then addressing him with a harsh whisper. "Your better half is still outside. I think he's worried that your mum was going to come in a murder you where you stand. Count yourself lucky that it's me and not her."

"Yeah, yeah," he says, trying to swallow a laugh as he lets her push him through the door.

"Do feel free to drop by, Miss Satan," calls the Principal in a disgustingly sickly sweet voice. God, he's probably her biggest fan or something. "It would be wonderful for you to give a speech to the stud-"

"Yeah, okay, thanks for everything. I'll make sure he gets home. Bye!"

The door slams shut behind them and Videl breathes a long sigh. Her gaze turns murderous.

"I hate coming here," she growls once she knows the creepy old fart can't hear them. Trunks, who has come from out of hiding, laughs quietly as Videl clip-clops down the hallway in those pretty heels of hers.

They follow submissively in her steed. Goten spots Trunks looking at her inappropriately and gives him a hard shove.

She whisks around.

"Why do you keep pulling stuff like this, Goten?" she demands of him, "you're going to make your mum go into cardiac arrest one of these days. Are your little pranks worth five minutes of laughter from your friends but hours' worth of headaches for the rest of us?"

Trunks has his back. "He drew a picture. Chill out, Videl. I'd get it if he'd stink-bombed the cafeteria again-"

Goten barks a laugh.

His friend ignores him. "Or if he streaked in class again, or spiked the teachers' coffee-"

"Nah man, that was you."

Trunks' brows shoot up. "It was?"

Videl groans. "Seriously, guys. Is it so hard not to just keep your head down and do your work?"

"I get straight As," Trunks informs with a painfully smug smirk. The entire thing strikes Goten of Vegeta.

Ugh. It's annoying. Goten doesn't know how he does it all. Trunks never studies. _Never_. He's always out with different girls, hanging out with the kids in his class, or causing mayhem with Goten, but never does he have to deal with the crap Goten has to endure, and never has he ever seen the smug ass pick up a book.

"Don't look salty, Goten," Trunks goads. God, if Videl wasn't here he'd plant his face into the floor. "Your biggest problem is that you got caught."

"No," Videl admonishes, "his biggest problem is that he did it in the first place. I had to leave mid-meeting to come over here."

Goten suspects that Videl isn't actually that angry about having to leave; knowing very well how much she hates the bureaucracy of her job.

Regardless, he knows he should apologize. "I'm sorry. I didn't think my mum would send you to come get me."

She scoffs. "Yeah, well, here I am."

Goten can tell she's not really being grumpy. She's trying not to smile the entire way to her jetcopter. When he gets in Goten makes sure not to slam the door like her normally does, and Trunks does the same.

"I'm not taking both of you," Videl says from the pilot's seat.

Trunks leans back against the leather, slimy. "Don't be like that. Are you really gonna' make me fly?"

"You say it like it's a chore…" she grumbles as she turns the key. Goten watches her eyes darken in a flicker as she seems to recall something, something Goten can only guess to be a time when she, too, could fly… Videl hasn't been able to fly for years now.

She jolts her shoulders, pepping herself up, and presses a button on the dashboard. The beast roars to life, and with a single glance back at Goten's cheeky best friend, Videl stares into Trunks' unwavering gaze.

A battle of will commences.

Eventually, she sighs, knowing a lost battle when she sees one. "Fine, I'll take you too but don't tell your mum that I let you leave school early."

Trunks laughs. "Pah, she won't care."

Videl shakes her head, dismayed as she pulls at the steering wheel. They hover into the sky smoothly. "You're both spoilt brats, you know?"

Trunks leans up, almost manic in his amusement. "Coming from you?! Are you hearing this, Goten?"

Goten only hums, daring to go against neither of them. They're both forces to be reckoned with. Should he even say a whisper against Videl then he knows for sure that he'd be the one kicked out of this hunk of metal, forced to fly in the searing summer heat. Yeah, no thanks.

The jetcopter climbs higher and higher until the school and city become mere speckles in a sea of grey bellow.

Most of the journey is blanketed in a comfortable silence. Trunks seems content messaging whatever ABC girl he's trying to sweet talk and Videl's eyes are firmly glued to the flight path. Maybe a little too firmly now that Goten thinks about it. There's a sharp crease between those usually bright blue eyes of hers. She's clearly concentrating on something unsaid. Goten watches, a little lost in how she manoeuvres her fingers across the many buttons and switches on the dashboard.

She eventually flicks a switch, one which fills the vehicle with the loud shredding of guitars, and throat-ripping screaming. Goten bursts out laughing when Trunks drops his phone from the shock.

"What the hell, Videl?!" Trunks bellows over the noise.

She can't hear him as she sings along with what Goten thinks barely constitutes as music.

Trunks, in retaliation, kicks Goten's schoolbag into the back of the pilot's chair. A one finger salute is offered in return.

Goten laughs and laughs as Videl screams along with the music up until the moment they land. When she turns off the engine she's laughing too. It suits her. It really suits her.

"You're a shit driver and a worse singer," Trunks snipes as he drags his ass out of the jetcopter.

He's probably only moody because he couldn't find his phone again until they'd landed, and Videl takes zero pity as she pretends to cry on his behalf. Trunks flips her off as he throws his own bag over his shoulder.

"Absolutely no respect, you little punk!" Videl calls after him, but she's smiling all the same. Goten turns when she catches him staring. A hand reaches up and ruffles his hair. Yes, _up_ , he's taller than her –not that would stop her from beating down on him. "And you. You need to go kiss your mother's ass for the next hour before dinner. I don't want to deal with her being in a bad mood tonight."

Goten bats at her hand. "You're staying for dinner?"

"Didn't your mum tell you? We planned it last week."

"No!"

"Wow, look at it all making sense to why it was _me_ to come and get you from school. C'mon, kiddo, I don't want to hang around the entryway all day. This place makes me uneasy."

_Kiddo…_

Goten frowns.

With hands shoved into his pockets, he follows her down the gravelly walkway. This is the closest Videl is authorized to park to their home, something which makes her trips to their neck of the woods even rarer than before they'd moved. The occasional and sporadic fires are also a huge off-put to visitors, including Videl who'd once lost a previous jetcopter to the flames.

Goten scratches at the back of his head, sighing.

_They don't call it Fire Mountain for nothing…_

The entryway boasts a grand archway that they have to walk through each time they want to enter the kingdom. Goten moved here with his mother only three years ago but it feels like he's been there forever. Guards are posted everywhere and scrutinize his every coming and going, allowing Goten zero privacy. He can't even count how many times he's had falling outs with them over breaking curfew. What the heck is it to them if Goten wants to come back after dark?

Yes, the guards surrounding the Ox Kingdom are annoying to say the least. However, it's the swooping walls around the city which makes feel Goten the most trapped. It's a no-fly zone for all; including him, jetcopters and planes alike.

His grandpa had once told him it's because the residents are a superstitious bunch, and that they don't like outsiders too much, trusting no-one not in their circle and having very little respect for the powers outside of their small world. No wonder the kids at Goten's school think he's in a cult.

"How you do this daily I have no idea," Videl sighs as she signs her name in the guestbook. The guard station is filled with sour-looking attendants. They don't even smile at him –the grandson of their bleeding king!

"You too," grunts one guard, pointing his ball-point pen at Trunks.

"I'm here, like, all the time!"

"You _too_."

Trunks snatches the pen. "Christ. Relentless, you lot, aren't you? _Here_. I've signed your friggin' book."

Goten awkwardly nods his head to the collection of security. In perfect unison, they all frown in an impressive chain reaction.

"Lovely," Videl comments, discarding her own pen. She doesn't bother collecting it from the floor when it misses the table. "C'mon, let's go. God forbid they smile at us and make us feel welcome."

"I hate this place," Trunks complains, banging open the gate leading into the main courtyard.

It's a place barren of any greenery, with torches of fire ensnaring the open yard in a circle of foreboding orange. Dismal greys and browns of the building are occasionally infiltrated with the daring surprise of flowers, but mostly it's just the dourness of brimstone and concrete which greets him each and every day after school.

Except for weekends and alternating Wednesdays.

The huge castle is oddly depressing compared to the rest of the kingdom. Goten knows that outside the strict grounds the people live in quaint, modest homes surrounded by the wild of the countryside. He goes there sometimes to eat at the restaurants. Now that his mother cooks less due to an overbearing chef, Goten struggles to find a decent meal these days.

Some of the servants gawkily lower their heads at him, and Goten knows it must kill them to do so. They've hated him since the moment they moved into this prison.

The group finally makes it up to the foyer of the castle after tackling the long staircase. And right at the main door, his mother waits for him, looking absolutely livid.

"Goten Son," she seethes, "this is the fifth call this month. Why are you _so_ desperate to shame this family any further?"

Goten goes to open his mouth but Trunks gives him a swift gut punch, silencing him.

His mother advances upon him so fast that Goten's sure that she must be secretly a super saiyan too. A finger stabs into his chest before he's even recovered from Trunks deft assault. "You listen here, young man, if I so much as hear another whisper from your school before the semester is out then I'll make sure you never look at another screen again until you're eighteen. None of that social media stuff, no emailing friends or calling girls-"

Trunks snorts back a laugh.

_Girls?_ Goten can practically hear his best friend question.

His mother sends Trunks one of her darker looks too, one which makes him recoil ever so slightly behind Videl; the coward.

"I'm going to tell your father not to let you use your phone this weekend," she continues briskly, not even sparing a second for breath. Her face is red, nearly purple. "I'm going to tell him to break it and to hide the pieces, and to not let you out of his sight even just the once!"

The reception is crap out there anyway but he's not about to tell her that.

"And I don't care what you say, you're _going_ to train with your father!"

Goten jumps at that. "What? No! No, I don't wanna'!"

"See it as your punishment," she huffs, colour slowly fading from her face. Goten's patent dread is somehow easing the dragon's wrath.

In the background, he knows Trunks is trying his best not to laugh. Yeah, it's funny to him right now because it's _Goten_ being forced to train. If it was him then Goten would have to listen to the guy bitch, bitch, bitch all day long. Vegeta is equally as obsessed with training as his dad, and equally as obsessed with dragging his kid into it.

"Urghh, I hate it," Goten complains, scratching the back of his head.

"I don't care," she snaps, "maybe this'll teach you not to cause havoc at school."

"It won't be so bad," Videl then chimes in, taking off her blazer. It's hung up in its usual spot by the door. "When was the last time you even trained with Goku?"

Goten grumbles, shrugging. Usually when he goes to his dad's he just hangs about the house as his dad goes out and beats up boulders or whatever he does when he trains.

"I hope it is _that bad_ ," his mum goes on to say, hands on hips. "I hope you dislike every minute of it just so it teaches you a lesson. The more I hear from your school then the more I'll make sure your father knocks some sense into you."

"How's that fair?"

"Well, you can take it up with him. He's coming to dinner tonight so I'll get to tell him what a delinquent you've become."

He scoffs in her face. "Yeah, _if_ he comes."

The reaction is immediate. "Goten Son!"

"Right, right, I'm sorry. Look, can I go drop my stuff off in my room now?"

His mother growls and he takes that as his chance to leave, ignoring the stream of shouting following him up a set of stairs leading to his room. Trunks loyally follows, head low. Goten hears his mother's fury even after he slams the door closed.

"Oh, she's getting soft," Trunks comments. He wastes no time in flopping down hard on the king size bed. Pillows bounce up in reaction.

Goten sheds his backpack and starts changing out of his school clothes. A top is whisked off. "You call that _getting soft_?"

"Dude, she's sending you to your dad's."

He grunts, throwing the top at Trunks' stupid head. "Because she knows how much I _hate_ it."

"It's not that bad. You get to do what you want. Your dad doesn't care at all about the school stuff. He'll probably find the drawing thing from today really funny."

"Which would be fine if I didn't have to spend all my time at the _Mausoleum._ "

Trunks snorts, "I guess."

The _Mausoleum_ is what both he and Trunks call the old Son family house because it's basically just that. It's a tomb of memories and good times. The place remains unchanged, except for the build-up of mess his dad can't stay on top off. A cleaner goes round every Tuesday to help out (courteous of Bulma) but otherwise there's little in the way of development there. Goten's childhood room is the same, the kitchen is the same, the living room is also the same… But it now feels empty. People are missing. New memories can't be born there. It's flat, dead. The happy occasions there had been buried long ago along with…

Goten grits his teeth, brows heavily pointed. He grabs a fresh jersey and jeans.

"Dad won't even come tonight," Goten growls as he snags up his jeans. He nearly topples over the skew of mess on the carpet, and a clutter of pens and sketch books go flying. The contents of his desk also take a fall. "You know, he never visits. I don't know why she bothers."

Goten hears Trunks from his lounging spot on the bed as he collects his belongings from the floor. "I dunno'. Free food…"

The Son teenager picks up an entanglement of wires and earphones, chuckling.

_Yes, some things never change._

He then picks up an old, dusty picture frame. A gust of breath leaves him, sending the prickles of grey floating about the room.

Four smiling faces from the picture stare back.

_Some things do however._

* * *

Dinner could have been a difficult affair but it's not. His mother seems to have forgiven Goten's earlier transgressions… for now at least, and is attempting to make polite conversation with him. She asks about his club activities and he gets to lie and tell her how much the Science Club has improved his studies. For one, Goten is failing Science, and two, he never joined Science Club, instead opting for the Fine Arts program. Should his mother find out then Goten knows that he'll be utterly screwed.

He watches Trunks smirk into the next bite of his meal when Goten fabricates an experiment they did last week. There's an elaborate explanation involving wild hand gestures and re-enactments. "So yeah," he finishes lamely, "that's… that's about it, really."

"Wow," Videl says flatly, clearly not swallowing his shit, "they didn't have clubs like this when I went there."

"Things change," Trunks says around a mouthful of food, waving his chopsticks around. "Some people say that the school is on the up, you know?"

"No… I don't."

Goten coughs. "Yeah, well, so basically, Mum, the experiment was a success and uh… my hypmofithus-"

"Hypothesis," Trunks corrects.

"Yeah -that- was right in the end."

There's a beat of silence at the table and Goten's faced with an audience of different reactions. Trunks is smugly poking at a lump of rice as he tries not to make direct eye-contact with Goten. Videl has the emptiest stare Goten's ever seen. And his mother?

"Oh, my baby is going to be a scientist. I can feel it!" Her hands clap together as her eyes positively sparkle. The grievances of today seem to have gone forgotten completely as her face glows with pride. After all these years Goten knows exactly what she wants to hear.

Trunks feeds it. "Oh, a scientist. Golly."

"I'd pay to see that," Videl also adds after another mouthful.

His mother doesn't catch the dryness of either of them, salivating over the _very unlikely_ dream of Goten becoming a scholar. In turn, he finishes his eighth bowl of egg noodles and adds it to the stack as he stares yonder the four walls of the room. Beyond the bowls he looks at the door left ajar. It leads out of the dining room and into the hallway where another guest was expected to turn up ten minutes ago.

Goten catches his mother looking too. He won't say anything. He's above that.

Another bowl of noodles is taken.

"And how are you doing, Videl? How's work?" asks Mum. She leans over the table, still riding the high of Goten's story. "You're working over at Orange & Co, aren't you? I saw it on the television yesterday. They say it's a really prestigious law firm!"

"Er, ah, yes!" she responds. Her cheeks are quick to turn rosy, and her eyes cast down at the mountain of food that she'd been served earlier. "My friend –a college friend- helped me secure a place. His uncle runs it, and he's interning there too so we're kind of in it together."

"Oh, that's nice, although I'm sure your father's connections would have been more than enough to get you any position you wanted."

_Absolutely no tact as usual, Mum._

Videl doesn't seem at all fazed. "It's nice to do it through my own networking," she off-hands, "and even though it's strict there I feel like there's so much I can learn from the guys at Orange & Co. They've worked a lot with the local council and police so it's kind of ideal for me to get my foot in the door there."

His mother beams. "Well, I for one think it's excellent that you've got your eyes on the prize, Videl! You worked hard all through school and now it's paying off. You should be very proud of yourself."

_God, why do her words feel so pointed? Hmm… whoever could she be making a dig at?_

Goten glares as he slurps his noodles.

Trunks spares his food from his onslaught for a brief moment. "Do you get murder cases?"

"No, just petty crimes. I'm shadowing really."

And then he goes back to his food, attention lost. Goten's is not, however.

"Do you wah murdurh ca'es?"

"Swallow your food, Goten," his mother chides.

He gulps down the oily blandness of today's meal. "Do you want murder cases?"

"No, if I'm being honest. I want to deal with cases surrounding-"

"Let me guess," Trunks interrupts, scraping his plate clean, "you want to help inner city kids. You want to help the _impoverished youth_?"

Videl bristles. "Yeah, and so what if I do?"

"You're such a stereotype, Videl."

His mother feels no shame in berating him too. "Trunks!"

"It's true," he chuckles, and then reaches for another heaping of rice. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing, jeez."

"It's beautiful," breathes Mum, still sharply focused on his best friend. Trunks does best to keep his head low. "And it's noble. Helping people is exactly what G…"

She pauses.

All three pairs of eyes turn and pinpoint on his mother. He goes to reach for her hand but she's quick to pull away, smiling. A faint pat against his fingers is offered. "Well, it _would_ have been."

They all exchange glances before slowly returning to their meal. Goten's appetite dies the moment he looks back down at the sludge of food. The slick sheen of oil almost reflects his pulled lips right back at him.

"Actually," Videl comments next, tone thin, uncertain. "Whilst we're on an uncomfortable topic I think I should say what I need to say, well, what I've needed to tell you guys for a while actually."

Goten gives her his full attention, leaning over the mahogany and scraps of food. Her twisting face contorts as she wrestles her next words out. They seem to lodge in her throat.

"What is it, dear?"

Even Trunks looks interested.

Videl grimaces, tugging hard at the end of her plaited hair. "I… uh…"

He recalls her looking anxious back in the jetcopter. Is this what it had been all about? What has she come to say?

"Okay, Satan, just say it," she instructs. The blues of dazzling, fierce eyes reinforce into their usual diamond-hardness and she finally addresses them, addresses his mother most of all. "Chi-Chi, I'm seeing someone."

_What?_

Goten's mouth drops, and he becomes so still that his limbs may have just turned to stone. It's Trunks' rare and open concern that brings him back to reality.

Finally, Mum also regains herself. She dabs at her lips with grace befitting a princess. Her face gives nothing away but they can all sense it. "S-seeing someone?"

"Y-yes," Videl replies, probably louder than intended.

"Oh…"

_Oh…_

His chest hurts a bit. Why does his chest hurt?

"And!"

Videl stands. The scraping of her chair echoes about the cold room. Paintings of the Ox Kings of the past watch down with their disconcerted gazes.

"And we're engaged."

* * *

**Age 774**

**(Six years previous)**

**?**

Everything is quiet ...until it isn't. Roaring of machines, mechanical beeping, multiple people speaking all blend together in a frustrating concoction that makes Gohan's head spin. At first he thinks that Goten must have turned the TV up to max volume again, or Dad is getting an ear-full from Mother. Only when someone starts shouting right beside him in a language he can't place does he know something is off.

Gingerly, he opens his eyes and is taken blind by the brightness. He winces, turning his head. What's going on? Where is he? Is this his room? Just why is it so bright? When his eyes adjust he realises fairly quickly that he's not snug at home in bed, and the comforts of his room suddenly seem a million miles away.

The room is a clinical white, at least from what he can see. Glossy silver curtains have been draped around Gohan's bed, only allowing for a small fraction of the room to be seen. From what he can see, there's a strange computer beside him, offering that trying beeping he can still hear. The rhythm is smooth, reminding Gohan very much so of a heart monitor. Perhaps it is one as he can spot the many wires dangling from his form. They pierce into his skin and into his veins.

Is this a hospital? Is he sick?

He opens his mouth to ask for his mother but only manages a croak.

Gohan feels horribly worn out. His body feels like he'd been smacked around after a very rigorous training session with his dad.

Trying his voice once more, he finds it crusty as he battles a cough.

"Where..." ... _am I?_

The curtain hitches left, revealing a dark-skinned man in a long white coat. His face is stern and unrecognizable, offering little reaction other than mild surprise at Gohan's being conscious.

"You're awake," he announces, voice heavy with an accent Gohan does not recognize. His expression is impassive, shrewd even, making the teenager feel automatically on the defensive. He shuffles under the thin sheet as the man draws closer. "How unexpected."

"Where…am…"

The man acknowledges him only briefly before busying himself with the computer. He taps at the flat surface in front of a monitor with rapt fingers. To Gohan it looks like he's just hitting the desk but it must be doing something because he can hear the man hum under his breath as he regards the screen. The shine from the monitor winks at Gohan.

"Hmm… Your energy waves finally seem to be balancing out which is a moderate relief. Fluctuation can be quite dangerous with readings quite as high as yours if I do say so myself, sir."

_Sir?_

"Do you feel weak? Fatigued possibly?" asks the man in white, not bothering to hold his breath for Gohan's reply. "That's normal. We had to administer sedative when the spiking of energy started to affect the power in the hospital. Your brother authorized it, of course."

The teenager's brows crinkle.

_Goten?_

"He has not long left, actually," continues the man who Gohan suspects to be a doctor of some kind. He's wearing thin surgical gloves and a plastic apron under his coat, and several polished utensils poke silver heads from out of the , the guy did just say something about a hospital…

Gohan reaches upwards, wires dangling from his arm, as he cradles his forehead. When he tries sitting up the probable doctor pushes him right back down.

"You're also suffering from a concussion."

_Huh_ , that explains the ringing in Gohan's ears, and his fuzzy memories. Just what had he been doing before this? Had he been out training with his dad or Piccolo? But that doesn't make sense he then thinks. They'd just take him to Dende to be healed if something had happened there.

He shudders at another though; school –had something happened at school?

"What…" The teenager croaks. Gosh, his head hurts. "What hospital is this?"

The doctor folds his arms, drumming his pastel-blue cladded fingers along the white. He deliberates, switching his attention between the computer and Gohan, making the teenager feel all the more self-conscious.

"This is the Spire Infirmary," he eventually tells Gohan. His words are slow. "You've been resting here for several days now after Lord Rixas brought you in."

"Lord… _who_?"

The doctor removes the gloves. There's an elastic snap. "Ah yes, I almost forgot, he did mention of this strange amnesia of yours. Stay still. I'm going to check your vision for abnormalities. Any blurriness? Sensitivity to light perhaps?"

Gohan's natural reaction is to co-operate and behave like a good patient, yet it all rings strange to him, and so he pulls away from the doctor and the medical equipment being thrust in front of his face. He coughs from the movement.

"It only magnifies," the doctor informs as he swivels the glassy object. "I just want to check your pupils."

"Where's this _Spire_ place? I don't understand, er, Doctor. Was I in an accident? My dad –is he…"

"Curious, so very curious," breathes the doctor. The magnifying glass retreats into his breast pocket, nestling just under the crest of a horse's silhouette.

Then it hits him.

He remembers the captain, and her matching crest; one which sat atop her breast plate. He remembers the forest, the tree, his ki –oh God, _his ki_ \- and he remembers that lord guy…

"Lord Rixas," Gohan manages, feeling weightier for even mentioning the name. The frog in his throat threatens him, rasping.

The doctor doesn't react as expected. His tone is flat. "Are you remembering something?"

"I woke up here… in this world… and there was this tree… it _attacked_ me."

Again, there's very little in the way of a reaction. "A tree you say? That's rather queer even for this realm. I can't say I've ever heard of a savage tree roaming about the grounds."

"It did something to my ki!"

"Your ki, you say?"

"I couldn't control it aft-" Another cough then takes him, this time deep and hollow.

"Hmm… I see. Well, don't over exert yourself. Your-"

There's a screeching as the curtain is dragged sideways, silvery fabric flapping madly as another looming figure is revealed. The cool ivory lighting from behind shines so brightly that it makes Gohan want to get up and punch out each individual offending bulb. He hisses, hiding behind his hands as the bulldozing force of nature blunders into the space.

When the man starts to speak does Gohan realise how quietly the doctor had been speaking, most likely for Gohan's benefit, for the next string of words are practically ear-splitting.

"Mori!" wails the newcomer, one easily identified as the previously met Lord Rixas. He wastes no time in lumbering over to the bed and snatching at Gohan's arm. "You're awake."

"Lord Rixas," the doctor greets. It's respectful but an underlying annoyance goes unsaid.

"You gave me a hell of a fright," Lord Rixas goes on. His eyes dazzle in their golden glory. "When you hit your head… wow, I've never seen one person bleed so much."

"Well, that's a lie if I ever heard one," scoffs the doctor, "seeing as I see you in my care every other week."

Lord Rixas blanks him; his eyes only for Gohan. "Do you remember me now? Has it come back? This guy over here said it might… _Uwahh_ , Mori, why are you looking at me like that? You look like you've got nothing rattling about up there." He turns back to the doctor with a rabid look twinkling about his expression. "Doc, does he have brain damage?"

_I don't have brain damage!_

"I don't believe so, sir. His brain wave patterns were consistent with his previous records."

"Then why is he looking at me that that?"

" _Mori_ ," Gohan parrots, tone low. Lord Rixas swivels back to him with an almost hopeful look. It falls flat moments later. "I'm not this guy… You've got your wires crossed or something. I've told you already, my name is Gohan."

Lord Rixas sighs and combs his fingers through blonde scruffy hair. "Tch! Really, not _this_ again!"

Gohan goes to say something again but the doctor lays out a hand and turns to the loud and, if Gohan's being honest, obnoxious young man.

"Let's not stress my patient out any further, my lord-"

"Daaaamn," he breathes as he slouches beside Gohan's stretched legs. He gives the right foot a light smack. "What the hell happened to you, Mori?"

_I'm not Mori!_

"This isn't Earth, right? I need to- arghh." Gohan just manages to keep the fire submerged in his throat. The more he talks the more it _burns_.

The doctor clicks his tongue, lightly ushering Gohan back against the plush of his pillow. "That'll be the energy-suppressants at work. They can cause a touch of heartburn I'm afraid."

Lord Rixas furrows his brow, "you're drugging him?"

_My thoughts exactly!_

"Precautionary," continues the doctor, "your brother signed off on it."

… _Brother? Another one?_

If the young lord didn't look worried before he does now. He speaks slowly and deliberately. "Quell's been here?"

"Of course, my lord."

Lord Rixas thumps at Gohan's feet again. "How annoying. He didn't even stop by to speak with me."

"He wasn't here long," the doctor goes on to say. "He simply checked over Lord Mori and left on business."

"Cold bastard," Lord Rixas says not without amusement.

The bird's nest on his head bounces as his wide, wolfish grin softens into something easier for Gohan to recognize. The lord then turns to him with such a deep, penetrating stare which makes the teenager want to haul the sheets up and over his head. The gold is molten and so intensely warm.

"I'm so happy you're alive, little brother."

It hurts Gohan's chest. God. He kind of wishes that he is this guy's brother just so he doesn't have to let him down. The scene reminds him of Goten, reminds him of the moments leading up to a waterworks show where it would take ages for Gohan to try and sort the little monster out. Once, after stepping on a family of snails Goten had cried and cried for hours and nothing Gohan did could console him. He's a sweet kid –maybe a little too sweet.

These tears would usually start with a wobbly lip and pink, puffed cheeks.

The teenager surveys the lord's face and feels himself pale.

Oh.

_Oh no._

Thick droplets have begun to rain down from this stranger's face, splashing down onto Gohan's covers.

_Oh God, he_ is _crying!_

Gohan doesn't know what to do. Tissues. He needs tissues! He turns to the doctor to see that he's magically made himself absent.

"Err…"

"Ah, damn." Lord Rixas wipes his eyes on the back of his sleeve. "I promised Quell I wouldn't but, ah, shit."

Gohan's heart really does hurt. This guy is sobbing and it just has to be Gohan here instead of this guy's brother –who's probably most likely dead.

He has to try again, to try and make this poor guy see some sense. "Mistake... there's a mistake," he manages. Instead of the pain in his throat worsening, it actually seems to be easing. Gohan's unkindly reminded of the wires attached to him when he attempts to pull forward.

"You've hurt your head," Lord Rixas shakily tells him as he gives another affectionate pat on the leg. Those bold eyes haze over momentarily. "God, I'm so happy, Mori," a snort, "fuck, you're an idiot. I can't believe you -ugh. If you weren't strapped to all these machines-"

"I'm not Mori!" Gohan growls. Sympathetic or not, there's only so long that this can go on. "I told you already. I'm from Earth! I don't know you or this Mori guy. I'm really sorry, okay? But I'm not your dead brother –I'm just a human, er, saiyan, humansaiyan- and I just really want to get home because I'm sure my family must be really worried _–and,_ and- _please_ will you stop crying?!"

The sniffling lord purses his lips, looking more akin to a kicked puppy than the inhumane bundle of strength Gohan had witnessed last time. Lord Rixas opens his mouth only to close it again. His fingers twirl around the silky fabric of the teenager's cover, and Gohan feels himself tense up further than he already is.

"…Mori, what's an _Earth_?"

A beat of dead silence passes until a dry laugh escapes Gohan as he brushes his hands through his hair.

_What a mess._

It's at this time that Lord Rixas stands. What a soppy mess he's turned out to be. So much for being a big, scary lord of whatever. The curtain parts for him and Gohan hears the echo of boots hitting against the floor from the other side. The sound draws from further and further way until;

"...You really did give yourself fucking brain damage..."

And then he hears nothing.

He tries following after Lord Rixas. Guilt niggles at him. The poor guy is clearly delusional –he just wants his brother back, and Gohan just totally shot him down. Ugh, he feels just awful.

But then, the mild panic starts to set in. He didn't like the look in Lord Rixas' eyes; both the haunting gaze and the… warmth. The memory of the ki ball from that decrepit building hangs thickly in his mind.  
 _  
It had been the lord's energy, energy which didn't feel hostile whatsoever, it almost felt inviting, cosy; warm after a long day in the snow. It felt like home._

Gohan swallows thickly.

_It's a misunderstanding._ _It's a misunderstanding._ _It's a misunderstanding._

Surely, his dad is only moments away from bursting into the hospital room and laughing at the whole scenario. Gohan would feel embarrassed all the way home, but he would manage to crack a smile at dinner about it. Yeah, that all sounds about right.

Gohan breathes. He just has to wait.

A short time later, the same doctor from earlier returns with several other, what Gohan assumes to be, doctors in tow. They all have a nervous glow about them as they lurk near the curtain.

"Don't mind them, sir." The doctor waves a hand airily. "Your brother requested field specialists be present."

_My brother?_ Gohan furrowed his brows. _Goten? Why wou..._ _No. They think I'm someone else, don't they? Stupid Gohan._

"There's been a mistake," Gohan tries again, hoping for a better result this time. The doctor doesn't seem as thick-headed as Lord Rixas. Maybe he'll actually listen.

"What mistake is that?" he asks softly, head tilted like he's dealing with a child.

"I'm not this Mori... My name is Gohan, and I'm from planet Earth, and, uh, I, um, you've clearly made a mistake, and..."

Gohan's words die on his tongue as the patronizing expression on the doctor's face doesn't falter.

The doctor hums and smiles almost sweetly. Gohan is alerted to the other doctors taking note in the background via their obnoxious scribbling.

"Are they bothering you? I can ask them to stand behind the curtain if you'd like."

Some of the other doctors offer him the same sweet smile the first doctor gave.

He doesn't like any of this.

"Where am I?" he pushes, "someone said something to me about the Almigthy…"

"You're at the Spire, sir."

Gohan grits his teeth. "I know that! What planet are we on? Is it the Almighty? Something like the Kai's world? Some of those doctors are definitely not human; I think one's even a Namekian."

Said Namekian jumps a little and leans back towards the curtain. Ignorant, the doctor leans in. "Tell me more about these huu-man."

" _Argh…_ " His hand swipes down his face. "You've made a mistake," Gohan repeats _again_ , his voice rising to a shout. His body is still betraying him and offers little energy to move. This is ridiculous! Where the heck is he? "Tell me where I am! I'm not this Mori guy. I don't know who you people are! I'm from planet Earth, and I have no idea where your friend is –but it's not me! Just tell me what I need to know so I can actually be on my way home!"

A few of the doctors disappear behind the curtain, pale-faced, but the first doctor doesn't look fazed by Gohan's growing frustration. In fact, he takes a seat next to Gohan in an ivory, expensive-looking armchair. The notebook the doctor had been clutching is now placed neatly on the floor.

"It's come to light that even before your tumble out of a window, you've somhow experienced a severe case of memory loss," the doctor says with flippancy expected of discussing the weather. "From my in-detail discussions with both Lord Rixas and his captain I've been able to establish that this alter personality of yours seems to have lived a full life of its own before making its return to the Almighty. Do tell, just how old are you? I can't say that I'm familiar with your beloved planet _Earth_ but I'll try my best. You're a huu-man, correct?"

"I, uh, er," Gohan's eyes lingers between the first doctor and remaining doctors in the room. This is all completely ludicrous. Just what the heck is this guy talking about? "Uh, yes, well, half. I'm also half saiyan."

Finally, the doctor offers a reaction. His eyes widen, and he turns and says something in a foreign language to one of the other doctors. The other doctor replies briskly and jots more notes down.

" _Gohan_ ," the doctor says, looking as though he's betraying his own tongue by uttering it. "Tell me some more about yourself. Do you have a family?"

Gohan grunts. "I'm not saying another thing until you tell me more about where I am."

Eyebrows lift ever so lightly. "Oh, so you do have one then? Saiyan father or mother? Surely that little information cannot bring any harm. You seem like the wary sort, maybe you've faced persecution before. Perhaps under Frieza?"

Gohan's voice hitches in his throat. "He's dead."

"Well, now he is, of course."

More scribbling sounds out louder than ever and Gohan can't help the frustrated glare he shoots at the other doctors, some of who physically recoil.

The first doctor sighs and peers over his shoulder. He proceeds to tell them something using that foreign language from moments ago. Authority ingrains into his words and one by one, the other doctors leave through the silver sheet.

"You've never liked an audience," the doctor grumbles, curling his fingers around his thinning grey hair, "I have no idea what to tell your brother when he asks why the specialists he requested were marched out like schoolboys."

Gohan swallows and stares. A moment passes in silence. "Look, doctor… I'm sorry for becoming agitated but there really has been a mix up here. I don't know what happened. The last thing I remember is going to bed _on Earth_ , and that there was going to be an interesting lesson in history class in the morning. Then I woke up here. I'm not Mori, I'm sorry, I really am, but I'm just not him."

The doctor's eyes don't leave his. "Tell me, Gohan, how old are you?"

"Huh?"

"Surely that can't be damning information."

"I'm seventeen."

For the first time the doctor cracks a real smile, one of amusement. "That doesn't mean much to me I'm afraid. Do you know how old that is in standardised universal years?"

What the heck is that? He's never heard of it. "In... in what?"

The wrinkles by his eyes became more pronounced as his smile widens. "Are you a boy or a man?"

Gohan blanches. "I'm sorry?! I'm still at school if that's what you're asking! B-but I wouldn't say that I'm a b-"

"Somewhere between a boy and a man then?" The doctor hums. "Quite fascinating. Gohan, tell me about your appearance. Describe yourself."

"Errr..." He blanks, and eyes up the far wall as though an image of himself is going miraculously face back at him. Gohan scratches his chin and wracks his brain –he's not very keen on talking about himself. "I, um, have black hair and eyes. I guess I'm kind of tall, sometimes I wear glasses when I read."

The doctor is still for a moment before up and disappearing through the curtain. He returns just a quick as he'd left. Gohan's mouth goes dry when he sees what the doctor is holding.

_Surely... not._

Before Gohan had chance to protest the mirror rises and blasts Gohan with a heck of a surprise.

His gasp catches in his throat.

Gohan's tired, pale face stares back at him. There's nothing different there. However now there are two very new additions to his features.

_My eyes..._

A dazzling radiance of gold gleams back at him so brightly that Gohan feels the need to look away. Instantly, he recognizes them as the two piercing spheres of gold he'd just seen weep for him. These are the eyes of Lord Rixas. These are the eyes of someone who's not Gohan Son.

They glow brilliantly like a cat in the night.

They shine like gold itself.

They… they can't be right.

The doctor lowers the mirror. The gold in the reflection sets like the evening sun.

"They're the eyes of a god, my lord."


	4. Assimilation

ohan must have fallen asleep at some point because he wakes up to the dark of an evening sky. There's an ungenerous hole which acts as a pitiful excuse for a window, and so he's only rewarded with a couple of speckles against the blue-black. Even the stars look sad, he thinks as his eyelids pull close once more.

The second time he wakes up is when the methodical hum of the hospital machines churn out an undesirable crunching sound. Gohan tries to bury his ears against the pillows but finds it to be futile.

Just as he moves to fortress himself under the thin sheet does he hear the machine rip out a thunderous snarl before powering down completely. Irritation only momentarily bubbles until sleep takes him once more.

The final time he wakes is when he is lightly shaken by the shoulder. It's the doctor from yesterday, the one who'd eventually given his name as Doctor Jivel.

"Good morning. It's not quite enough to feed a typical saiyan but I've brought you some breakfast," he wryly says as he gestures to a tray of dubious-looking food on Gohan's bedside. "You should feel somewhat better today; last night we pumped enough medicinal fluids into you to make a Sorlian burst."

Gohan doesn't know what a Sorlian is and doesn't have time to ask as Doctor Jivel disappears behind the silvery sheet. Whatever medicine is currently being pumped into his body appears to have worked because Gohan is able to shimmy into an upright position without a wave of nausea battering him. Weak, but not invalid, he gazes towards the food.

Dubious is putting it lightly. Apparently being some hotshot god-type doesn't mean much if they serve him this kind of slop.

"You wouldn't have to eat such atrocities if you didn't put yourself in these kind situations."

Startled, Gohan turns his attention towards the curtain.

The silvery sheet slides cleanly over the shoulder of Gohan's newest guest, a man poised with self-assurance and polished refinement. He's all angles and points, especially with that glare, one which peers out through a pair of very _golden_ eyes and into Gohan's soul.

_"They're the eyes of a god, my lord."_

He stiffens under the gaze. Unlike Lord Rixas' eyes these are sharper; tightening under blonde white eyelashes the longer he stares Gohan down. Straight away, Gohan knows that this must be the other brother, the mysterious Lord Quell the doctor mentioned last night. If only for those intense glowing eyes and sheet of blonde hair, Gohan can connect the dots. Lord Rixas and this man are eerily similar. The only main difference is that this guy's hair is long and neat, cascading smoothly down his back and looking like not even the wind could tempt it astray. It adds to his regal nature, opposing Lord Rixas' character in contrast. Whereas Lord Rixas looks like a common shaggy-haired college kid, this guy strikes Gohan exactly of what a lord should be. He's regal, commanding.

The teenager swallows against the scratching of his throat; an uncomfortable pressure blankets the room and so he shuffles beneath the sheets. It's suffocating. Gohan feels like he's suffocating.

_This guy isn't good news at all…_

He thinks the man, Lord Quell, must be a mind-reader because he showcases one the nastiest scowls Gohan's yet seen.

"Of course you would forget yourself," this lord says as he lowers into the same chair the doctor used last night, "you do like to keep it interesting for the rest of us, don't you?"

Gohan opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

"They say you think yourself some kind of saiyan half breed?" He sighs but his eyes remain knife-like sharp. It reminds Gohan of Vegeta many years ago, and briefly of Piccolo when Gohan would do something particularly annoying in those early days.

The silence hints to Gohan that this is his turn to talk.

"I... uh."

A wave of ki then flurries out. It surveys the room, filling every crevice with intense fury. The pressure from this man is unreal. Gohan's honestly never felt anything like it before.

Lord Quell frowns as he ghosts his fingertips over the doctor's notes by Gohan's bed. "So you forgot Lanit-Tongue, _and_ the common speak?"

_Lanit-Tongue?_

"I'm sorry!" Gohan finally spurts out, "I can just feel... your aura, it's..."

The man tilts his head over so slightly, his hair delicately falling sideward. There's nothing else delicate about this man, including the icy smile on show. It's a business man's smile. It doesn't reach his eyes. "I suppose you don't know who I am, do you?"

Gohan bites his lip. He has an idea, but knows full well that there's no right answer to this question. It's like when his mother used to drill him as a kid, hands on hips, asking him if he'd snuck out to train with Piccolo, knowing very well what the answer is already.

The teenager coughs into his hand. "You're _his_ brother. Er, Mori's. Right?"

The cold smile drops immediately and the man's lips press into a thin line.

"You really are a fool, aren't you, Mori?" The man's eyelashes feather against his cheekbones in slow motion. He glares about the room. "Look at where you are, look at what you've done to yourself. Had you cooperated in the first place then you wouldn't be here. Tch, when Rixas arrived at my chambers last night completely _intoxicated_ I thought he'd been exaggerating."

Gohan wants to correct the lord, correct him by telling him his real name, correct him by telling him that he actually isn't this strange Mori guy and that there's been some kind of mistake, but Gohan finds himself lip locked. Instead, his gaze lowers.

"I'm told they found you wandering around the grounds like a lost lamb," he continues, waspish. "That you're brain damaged and you've forgotten yourself."

The words are barbed and the pressure builds, the ki from this man drowning Gohan in tide after tide of weight.

"Just where the hell have you been, Mori?"

He tries to speak again and is thwarted by the slew of nauseating ki. It's radiating from the lord in oppressive spiralling waves. Never has Gohan known anything like this. Even looking at Lord Quell seems impossible. His head bangs, pulsating under the burden as his body threatens to crumble. _Kneel_ it tells him. It wants him to fold.

There's a bang on Gohan's bedside table.

"We thought you _dead_ ," he continues, " _I_ thought you dead."

Against his better judgement, Gohan looks up to be rewarded with the wintery glitter of gold. Frostily, Lord Quell considers him as the teenager palms the fabric of his mattress. Perspiration wets Gohan's forehead, his mouth runs dry and his words have long left him.

Lord Quell leans in. His hair follows in trickles. "You have rendered yourself powerless, lost, and worst of all… _stupid_."

Gohan's eyes narrow on reaction. He catches the lord's eyes in a direct blow. One thing he is not is stupid.

Before Gohan manages a single word, the man's aura weighs down twice as heavy as before. It's as though someone's just thrown a house at him.

" _Don't_ you look at me like that," the lord hisses, body stiff and reminding Gohan of a snake ready to strike. "After all this time you've been alive and yet I've known none of it. How dare you, Mori, _how dare you_ do this after what happened to Famis! How dare you disappear from your duty! How dare you return after being dead like _this_? Just what have you done to yourself?"

He winces. This is worse than being scolded by Mother. Heck, he'd rather have his dad shout at him than this.

"There's been a mistake… your ki… can you just-"

The man stands with such ferocity that it knocks the wind out of Gohan.

"Worst of all, Mori, is that you don't have any idea of what I'm talking about, who I am, you are, or what you are. The crime is that you can't fathom what you have done because you have made yourself _stupid._ "

With that, Lord Quell leaves without as much as a returning glance. He, at least, takes that daunting ki with him and within seconds Gohan can breathe somewhat easier. Laying there for nearly a full minute, Gohan tries to absorb what's just happened. The aura is gone but the memory of it still presses down on him, imprinting.

_Ugh… He's worse than the first brother._

Gohan steels a glance at the food on the bedside table and feels even more nauseated about eating than before.

* * *

Doctor Jivel returns a while later, looking dishevelled. His little hair fluffs in various directions and his pallor is grey.

"Are you okay?" Gohan asks as the doctor changes one of the many lines leading from a machine and into Gohan's body. Droplets of blue liquid drizzle when Doctor Jivel disconnects one line completely before discarding it.

"Huh? Oh yes, quite." He connects a fresh line and presses something on a clear and button-less table. Apparently that is that because the doctor makes his way towards Gohan's uneaten breakfast and lifts exactly one brow.

"I'm really not hungry."

Another brow rises to join its sister before he takes in a deep breath. "I suppose not. I dare say I feel the same, as do the rest of the staff."

Gohan looks at Doctor Jivel questioningly.

"Allow an old doctor to give you some advice, sir. Do not anger Lord Quell. His power is immense, and honestly, he puts the fear of God into me and all of my colleagues." Doctor Jivel collects Gohan's tray and makes his way to the curtain. "He is your eldest brother, and clearly very displeased about your condition. If he becomes any more displeased then he might just bring down the building... He caused a power outage last night and that was bad enough…"

The doctor leaves Gohan for a long time, long enough for him to become restless. No other doctors or nurses seem to be allowed into his room as he has no other visitors. He tries reading through the doctor's notes but can't understand any of the writing. Strange circles and oddly shaped lines must be how to write in this odd Lanit-Tongue (the language of this world according to the doctor), not that it means much to Gohan. Diagrams, drawings, and charts also frequently appear in his notes. He wonders if Piccolo would be able to recognize any of this.

He tries to nap to pass the time. It's dark by the time he wakes up to food being presented to him.

"You must be hungry by now," Doctor Jivel comments as he delivers the food to his bedside.

And he is actually. This food doesn't look like the slop of this morning. There are vegetables he doesn't recognize, and a pink meat that smells particularly appetizing.

"Lord Rixas came to visit. You were asleep so he was only here a short while."

Relief sweeps him. He certainly doesn't have it in him to deal with another of Mori's brothers today. Of course he doesn't say this to the doctor and instead tries a mouthful of the spiral vegetable instead. It's very sweet, not bad. The doctor changes another of the lines and presses some buttons on the button-less table again as he eats.

"So what is the Realm of the Almighty?" Gohan asks once he finishes his meal. Strange, he's never feel full after such a small meal back home.

The doctor looks at him and away in a quick motion. The odd button-less computer seems more interesting than him apparently. "Well, that's a loaded question, Sir."

Gosh, he really hates this 'sir' nonsense. Apparently they think he's some kind of lord like the brothers. Whilst Gohan's always tried to be polite and respectful he's never liked people to refer to him in any kind of formal way. It's just plain weird. Still, one thing Gohan hates more than this manner of speaking is the way the doctor tries to avoid his questions.

"I want to see my family," Gohan says, deciding to tackle Jivel's dancing around with bluntness. "I want to go home."

The doctor looks at him in surprise. "Do you not want your memories back?"

"I have my memories. I know who I am-"

"Let's just say," the doctor imposes as he looms over Gohan's bedside, "that everything you're saying is true." A hand silences Gohan before he can interrupt insisting that, yes, it is indeed the _truth_. "Hear me out, sir. Let's say that your life on planet Earth is the true reality and we have made this grandiose mistake and that you're not Lord Mori and we're incorrect. How do you prove that?"

"Take me to Earth. Take me to my dad. He can help. He knows people who can help."

"Okay. And how can we prove to you that _our_ reality is the truth? Other than holding a mirror to your face. Your eyes are that of a god; there's no mistaking that."

"You can't-"

"Humour me," Doctor Jivel urges.

Gohan tries to stare the doctor out, failing miserably. His mind comes up blank as the doctor goes on longer waiting for a response. Really, Gohan doesn't have anything to offer up other than how impossible all this really is.

When they'd showed him his eyes he'd tried to jump up and out of bed. They'd been turned into glowing rocks of gold, turned creepy and all-knowing. Gohan hated it –still hates it. There's obviously been some kind of mistake here yet no-one's listening to him. Everyone is insisting otherwise. Both brothers stubbornly won't acknowledge that they've clearly made a mistake.

The teenager's fists clench. It's so frustrating.

"Work with us and not against us, and we'll find the truth together," Doctor Jivel eventually puts out there, "if you have no memories of being Lord Mori then all this will be fruitless, and we can clear this misunderstanding up."

Gohan swallows but his mouth is already so dry that it just makes him feel sick all over again. The silence holds thickly in the air until, "I still want to speak to my dad."

Doctor Jivel seems to take this as a small victory. "In time. You're safe here, so let's focus on being well first. You really did hit your head rather hard, and your energy levels still aren't where I want them to be. Once you're physically healed I will have to pass you onto Doctor Hezk. She's one of the doctors who observed you yesterday. A bit nervous to take you I think, but she's an expert in magical damage. She also has a way with magic and the mind as I'm told so she'll be the one to help you recount your memories."

"Wh-what will she do?" Gosh, she wasn't a witch, is she?

"Don't look like that, sir. She's a fine doctor, very private and professional."

Gohan bites his lip. Okay, he'll humour them first. If they need proof that they've made a mistake he'll give it them. No problem. And if this other doctor is as good as Doctor Jivel said she is then she'll help him figure all this out.

_I'll make them see the truth._

* * *

Hours transpire into days through sleeping, eating strange and sweet foods, attempts at reading the doctor's notes to see what's actually wrong with him, and awkward conversations with Doctor Jivel. He's learnt that Doctor Jivel lives in the Spire infirmary itself with his partner, a man by the name of Doctor Yuluk. It comes as a little surprise. Gohan isn't prejudiced, but he hasn't really had much experience around gay people. Doctor Jivel was equally surprised at Gohan's reaction, telling him that liking one's gender wasn't anything anyone really questioned here.

He'd laughed good-naturedly at Gohan's surprise. And this is how Earth came to be known as a _hick planet_ to the good doctor.

Gohan also learnt that the Spire is apparently a well-respected and ancient establishment, dedicated to aiding the health of many individuals who're admitted. Doctor Jivel has been careful enough not to mention where exactly the Spire is but Gohan is pretty sure he's still in the Realm of the Almighty.

Surprisingly, there are no more visits from any of Mori's brothers.

"I respectfully asked them to keep their distance," Doctor Jivel tells him as Gohan eats his breakfast one morning. It must have been day four. "Your health is of the upmost importance, and will only be hindered by our dutiful, but impatient, lords."

He says it with eyes glowing in mischief, like he'd just said something he shouldn't have.

Day five presents a new problem. He hadn't noticed until that afternoon that he hadn't needed to use the bathroom at all since waking up. Doctor Jivel conceals a chuckle when Gohan mentions it in a panic, telling Gohan that perhaps the medical equipment is more advanced at the Spire than on Earth.

The wires dangling from his body taunt Gohan from where they lay streaming across his body. Luckily enough, it's day six when the fatigue and dizziness seems to have disappeared completely. There are no short bouts of napping anymore which convinces Doctor Jivel that evening to remove all the wires all together.

"You'll be able to take that toilet trip you're so eager about." Doctor Jivel jokes.

Finally, on the morning of day seven, wire-free, Gohan's allowed to get out of bed. He manages to move himself around in the bed just fine, even better without the wires, but knows his body would not enjoy the challenge of standing. He's proven correct when he takes one step forward after hoisting himself up, crashing into the arms of Doctor Jivel when his feet can't manage the weight.

He falls a further five times, but manages on the sixth to make it to the ivory armchair.

"You're doing well," Doctor Jivel says, wiping sweat from his brow. Supporting Gohan with every slip seems to have taken its toll.

"I don't understand why my body is so wracked like this."

"You're assimilating to the environment, I told you this. That combined with the ki fluctuation and concussion has caused intense strain on your body. Something as simple as walking takes time."

"On Earth people have to go through therapy for months to walk again," Gohan informs him, a little wheezy himself.

"Tsk, what kind of technological backwards planet of yours is this, Gohan?"

Doctor Jivel at least calls Gohan by his real name, which he's grateful for. When Gohan first requested Doctor Jivel dropped the 'sir' he seemed more amused than aghast (like Gohan thought he might be) by it, and did it with ease. The doctor's analysis of him continues on it seems.

That afternoon, nature calls. Walking is bearable but still awkward and painful. Thankfully, the doctor allows him to go to the bathroom alone after a brief argument (or ten minutes of Gohan pleading). The bathroom is as bright as his adjoining bedroom. There is no window unlike the other room however, being very cramped and uncomfortable for someone of Gohan's height to stand in. A toilet, similar to what he has on Earth, stands in the centre. To the right, there's a small shower head and to the left, a large one.

 _A shower_.

That sounds amazing. He's felt grimy for days, but the doctor has been insisting that he should not move from his bed. To help, sanitizing sprays deploy from the ceiling and spray him in little drizzles of cleaning fluid daily. The experience is not pleasant.

So a shower teasing him is all too tempting. Gohan quickly relieves himself, eventually finding out how to flush the toilet (you wave your hand over it), and approaches the shower. The mirror besides the basin goes very much ignored.

Ten minutes later, Gohan exits in nothing but a large fluffy towel to a very angry looking doctor.

"You say you're not him but you have the same disobedient attitude."

"I'm sorry," Gohan apologizes as he hobbles to his bed.

The doctor hums, brows furrowed. He throws Gohan a white robe from a cupboard near the computer. It's just as fluffy, draping over him like a cotton-padded cape.

It's then that a knock at the door then distracts them both. The doctor paces through the silver curtain and to what must be the door on the other side.

"Ah, welcome, Doctor Hezk."

Nerves shoot through Gohan's core. She's here –now?

A young woman filters through the curtain dressed in the same white uniform as Doctor Jivel. She's fairly pretty, with large brown eyes and even darker skin than doctor Jivel.

"Hello, sir." Doctor Hezk stiffly greets. She's more nervous than he is!

"He prefers 'Gohan'," Doctor Jivel tells her and then offers her the ivory armchair. His attention shifts back to his patient, brows poised in an amused expression. "Gohan, this is Doctor Hezk. She's one of the specialists from last week's observation, the one I told you about -the one who can help with your mind."

Gohan's lips purse together. Even if he's promised to meet them in the middle, he can't help but think about how much of a waste of time this is. His reaction doesn't have a good effect on Doctor Hezk and she lowers her head in swift motion.

"Ah, none of that, Doctor," Doctor Jivel chides with a hand on her shoulder. "Gohan doesn't like formalities, and is about as quick to spook as you."

Gohan feels his neck heat up but didn't have the heart to correct him.

"Okay," she says. A deep breath and a mumble to herself later, she finally stares up at him. Gohan can tell she isn't looking directly at him, but rather, through him. "I'm a specialist in magical injuries and research. I work primarily with people who've had damage inflicted upon the mind, often relating to memory loss, trauma, or emotional distress –not that you're distressed! Or traumatized! Just tha-"

"Thank you, doctor." He squeezes her shoulder. "Tell him what you'll be doing with him."

"I, uh, right." She coughs and stared through him again. "My hopes are to reignite connections between your current consciousness and memories. I have a pretty confident theory to what's going on here."

"Amnesia, right?" Gohan summarizes, incorrectly apparently as she looks at him in horror. This seems to break her out of her flurry of nerves.

"Oh, no! It's _magical_ ," she breathes, "the theory I'm running with most is that you've got two correlating conscious personalities submerged into one soul. Really interesting, I must say. To think that you're operating with two states of life is astounding. You're truly a wonder, sir."

Doctor Jivel folds his arms and scolds her. "Don't praise him, Hezk. This needs fixing."

Her eyes widen and she stares between the two men. "I, uh..."

"Um, Doctor Hezk," Gohan tries respectfully, soft. This seems to have the desired effect as her shoulders sag. "I'm not sure I understand."

She looks at Doctor Jivel in order to continue and does so after he gives a brisk nod.

"Do you believe in reincarnation, er, _Gohan_?"

Gohan twists the bedding in his hands, not liking the direction of all this. "Uh, I'm not... I mean, I don't know."

"I think this is what we're dealing with," she says with conviction, "Lord Mori's body was found some years ago by Lord Quell himself."

_They found his body?!_

Then why the heck are the questioning Gohan? Why do they think Gohan is him if they have a body?!

His face must be a sight because Doctor Hezk's pallor looks clammy. He settles himself, breathing hard and feeling even more confused.

"Reincarnation… I don't think so," he mutters.

"I do," she pushes, "your energy prints read the same; you have an uncanny resemblance –your eyes; only one sort of person can have the Golden Eyes of Revelation, sir."

"My God," Doctor Jivel says on his behalf.

"Yes," Doctor Hezk nods to the other doctor before turning back to Gohan of who watches on, tense. "Gohan, I believe you're the second consciousness, the reincarnation if you will. You've been living a real, true life, one of a saiyan. But as real as your life is, so was Lord Mori's."

"Ah!" Doctor Jivel gestures to the computer with a flick of the wrist. "Your brain waves, Gohan. They're the same as Lord Mori's."

_What... What?_

"Your conscious entities have come together!" the female doctor continues, practically bouncing in excitement. Her hands clap together. "Fascinating!"

Gohan squarks. "M-my what?"

"Your soul is one and the same, divided between two individuals –but now _one_! Amazing, really. All we have to do is establish connections between both Gohan and Lord Mori."

"And you know how, Hezk?" Doctor Jivel seems far too wrapped up in this now too.

"I have some ideas."

"I... this... impossible… a mistake." Gohan can't believe this. It's impossible. This Mori... He isn't him, he'd know, surely.

_I feel sick._

The two doctors converse animatedly. The language changes between the strange Lanit-tongue and what Gohan has come to know as Universal Speak. He catches the odd word but feels his hearing phase in and out.

None of this is possible. It's like a long bad dream. Maybe Goten will suddenly come and jump on his head, laughing about breakfast or something him and Trunks have masterminded. He looks down at his hands. These are his hands, right? They looked the same.

A reincarnation…

"Gohan, why don't you lie down? You're awfully pale."

Doctor Jivel pivots Gohan's legs onto the bed. His legs, still as tall… They're the same, right?

"Rest your head, yes, that's it."

_A mistake..._

"A mirror," Gohan manages, "Doctor, please can you..."

Unsure, Doctor Jivel gingerly passes him the small white one he'd presented Gohan with last week. Right away, Gohan's taken by those eyes. Gold stares back, striking. Beyond that, he looks just like himself, except maybe a bit more tired than usual.

"And I've always looked like this...?"

The doctor opens and closes his mouth. "Well, yes. After childhood."

Doctor Hezk leans forward, fear replaced with hungry interest. "Why? How did you look before?"

Gohan looks between the two doctors. "I, um... dark eyes. But... everything else..."

Doctor Jivel leans in, enamoured too.

"It's the same," Gohan finishes, thinning his lips.

"You didn't say this earlier!" Doctor Jivel protests.

Doctor Hezk breathes, "Fascinating... Gohan, do you share any resemblances with your parents?"

"Enough of this," Doctor Jivel snaps, completely devoid of patience. It seems Gohan's latest revelation is a step too far. "Thank-you, Doctor Hezk. I believe it's time for you to go now. Yes, yes, up you get. Excellent."

Those brown eyes lose all their innocence as Doctor Hezk lets her gaze linger over Gohan, of whom feels like she's ready to cut him open in a laboratory.

_Scary._

"You'll have all the time in the world with him from tomorrow, but for now he's still _my_ patient and needs to rest after this ordeal." Doctor Jivel ushers her out through the curtain and through the door. Gohan hears the lock click for good measure.

"Wait, I'm moving rooms then?"

Doctor Jivel sets a steely gaze upon him, still sore from Gohan's earlier admittance of withheld information. He sighs.

"No, Gohan. You're leaving the Spire. You're going home -to the estate."

* * *

The next day, Doctor Jivel offers to wheel Gohan out of the Spire on something akin to a wheelchair, but Gohan feels like he's got walking down now. Sure, it tires the heck out of him, but he's just happy to be able to stretch his legs. He's less happy about where he's being led however. Leaving his private room in the Spire had been both daunting and liberating. The rest of the Spire is unsurprisingly as white and sterile as his room had been. There are less patients and staff wandering about than Gohan had expected, but it really does have the general feeling of any typical hospital.

That lack of beeping from his machines unnerves him at first, and languages he doesn't know are being spoken in a variety of tones and volumes around him by a mixture of characters. Gohan had definitely been right from the get-go. This is no Earth. Aliens in many shapes and colours appear and disappear through doorways, some wearing the same doctor's robes as Doctor Jivel.

"Earth is a closed planet, isn't it?" Doctor Jivel asks in light conversation, already knowing the answer. "You don't really get many different races there, I'd imagine. Have you seen many _aliens_? You recognized the namekian last week."

"My friend is a namekian," Gohan tells him as they enter a lift. Doctor Jivel presses something on the screen and Gohan feels them descend. "So is our planet's guardian, another friend. But I think that's it –oh, I guess there's my dad and Vegeta, what with them being saiyans and all."

Gohan has told Doctor Jivel about his life back home, seeing little reason not to trust a man who'd returned him back to health. The doctor seems like a good man, patient too.

"You'll see a few more, no doubt." Doctor Jivel leads them out of the lift once they stop; leading them out through a grand, pristine archway that Gohan supposes to be both the entrance and exit. An alien with orange skin, a single horn on the forehead, and wearing all white bowed to them as they leave.

"This place feels kind of fancy," Gohan says, staring at the orange alien bowing to another patient leaving the building.

"Yet they still can't offer a decent cup of coffee in the canteen. Come on, that's our driver. "

Doctor Jivel whisks them from the porch and out onto a plaza just as white as the Spire rooms themselves. Fountains spouting water as high as his house mirror one another, leading a pathway back to where they've just come from. An overcast sky leaning to dusk welcomes them as they come face to face with a human-looking person. He's leaning over his vehicle, one which is completely black and curved. He taps at the shiny exterior before giving a nod to the doctor.

After a brief conversation with the driver about location, Doctor Jivel gestures for Gohan to enter the vehicle. It's bigger inside than expected, with its black suave seating it looks like something of a spy film he'd once seen. There's even a screen separating them from the driver!

_Whoa, so fancy._

"There aren't any seatbelts," Gohan goes on to say as he fumbles around looking for one. He turns to see Doctor Jivel shaking his head, smiling one of those smiles that Gohan could practically hear; _'oh, what a peasant planet you were on...'_

Gohan sighs, feeling weary already. Going to this mysterious estate has been a great cause of stress for him all night long. If that Lord Quell's there… He shudders. For now he just needs to focus on proving who he is and getting home. There's no use in worrying.

The vehicle provides a smooth ride but Gohan is disappointed by the lack of windows. He wants to know more about this place. Why is everyone so intent on hiding it from him?

"Your chambers are in the north wing," Doctor Jivel tells him, _again_. They've been over this several times now but Gohan respects the doctor enough not to interrupt. "Remember, the estate is divided into four wings. You'll want to save yourself a headache and not go into the west wing, that's where Lord Quell resides. Lord Rixas is in the south."

"Er… and the east?"

The doctor intakes a long gust of air. Wrought worry-lines trace down his temples and Gohan feels like he's just asked something he shouldn't have. "The east wing is empty. That had belonged to Lord Famis but he's long gone now."

"He… died?"

"Yes, many years ago. He'd been your second eldest brother."

Gohan frowns. His reflection frowns back, gold simmering. "Another brother…"

"Yes…"

The teenager is dreading meeting them again, particularly that Lord Quell. He really gives Gohan bad vibes. His hand courses through black locks. Urgh, why is he so nervous? These were Mori's brothers, not his. Gohan has no reason to feel so put out.

_Yet..._

An image of the cold, terrifying Lord Quell flashes in his mind... He'd rather take on Cell or Majin Buu any day then face down _that_ again.

"You'll be able to contact me whenever you need to; I'm your family doctor after all. You can also get in touch with Doctor Hezk. I'm _sure_ she won't mind."

Of course she won't! She wants to carve him up and put him in a beaker!

Gohan hears the doctor chuckle as the man helps himself to a glass of water. "Yes, she's quite invested in her work."

A glass is offered to Gohan, who makes sure not to spill a drip onto his new robes. The doctor had delivered them to his room in the Spire this morning and showed Gohan how to fasten the garments properly. His apparel now consists of a pair of stiff, form-fitting trousers and an equally stiff robe shirt, all grey. He's also draped in a long flowing cape which clips at the front. The cape feels particularly expensive in its heavy black material.

Gohan remembers the cape he wore at the Cell games not being constricting at all. Sure, it'd been weighted, but it'd also been highly manoeuvrable compared to what he's wearing now. But really, it'd been Piccolo's proud expression that had made it worth wearing.

_Piccolo..._

It's only been a week but he misses them, all of them. He's gone weeks without seeing Piccolo before but now it feels different. At this point in time, he could really do with his teacher's guidance.

Gohan swallows the thought and watches the bubbles in his water pop as the vehicle cues forwards.

"We're approaching the estate now."

_Already?!_

Gosh, he feels sick again.

"There's been a mistake," Gohan tells the doctor quickly, who proceeds to ignore him and down the rest of his water. Gohan's still remains untouched. "We can go back to the hospital –Spire, whatever. We can go back there and figure it out-"

"Hey now, don't be like that. Just stick to your wing and you'll be fine."

The door opens by itself in one smooth motion, revealing that it's now in fact night time. Glows from warm yellow lamps illuminate the shrubbery and green surrounding a dirt path. The occasional chirp from a nearby bird can be heard.

"It seems they've dropped us off at the rear gate," comments Doctor Jivel, gravel crunching beneath his feet from the other side of the vehicle. "No matter. It'll probably be easier this way anyway. Come on, Gohan, this way now."

Gohan eyes the doctor, who's now bathed in the soft yellow tones of the outside lamps. "…Right."

The gravel crunches under his boots too. Even in the dim light, Gohan can see the shiny glares of light shimmering from them. Whoever this Mori guy was, he apparently had expensive tastes.

_Well, of course, he's a lord._

But of what? That part has always been absent in the conversations he and Doctor Jivel shared on the topic. Apparently Gohan's the God of Mysteries because no-one's telling him squat!

The dirt path ends after they emerge through a huddle of tall looming trees. There, they're met with a stony path and a sinister-looking gate. It's so tall that Gohan can't see over the top.

"You'd think they'd open it for us, ey?" Doctor Jivel says with uncharacteristic ease. His attempt at trying to lighten the mood is appreciated but not at all successful.

Gohan hums in response, chest heavy.

"Hey, hey, hey!"

Through the glare of the lights adjoining the gate, two dangling boots can just about be seen swinging atop the wall. The boots slip down, the light running over the in sleek gloss in rapid movement.

The person lands with a hearty thud and barrages forward.

Gohan recoils in reaction.

 _Lord Rixas_.

"I've been waiting ages. What took you so long?" he asks as he takes Gohan by the shoulders. Wow, there's absolutely zero restraint from the guy. His white-blonde hair bounces as he positively vibrates in the teenager's presence.

"My Lord," Doctor Jivel greets, using the formal voice Gohan first heard from the doctor last week. It sounds foreign on him now. However, there's also that tone of warning Gohan has now since become accustomed to. "Please remember what we spoke about last night."

The hands on Gohan's shoulders tighten. "He's _my_ brother, doctor. I'll look after him even if he's brain damaged. Hell, I'd look after him if he was a potato."

"If you say so, sir…" He sighs, already looking winded from Lord Rixas' chaotic energy. "Doctor Hezk will be by in the morning to do some mental exercises with Lord Mori."

_What happened to 'Gohan'?_

The teenager frowns. He has a feeling that no-one would use his chosen (real) name here. The hands from Gohan's shoulders drop as Lord Rixas faces the doctor.

"Anything else?"

"Please be patient with him," Doctor Jivel insists. "Perhaps give him some space."

Lord Rixas' lips quirk, eyes smiling before his mouth even twitches. Two hands then sandwich Gohan's cheeks in a tight slap. "Space? You're not a dog, are you?" He pauses when he notices Gohan's held breath. "Ha-ha-ha, you have no idea who I am, do you? I do forget!"

The young lord releases Gohan but not without a pinch to his left cheek.

"He's fiiiiiine." Lord Rixas tells Doctor Jivel intense expression, "Look at him. Epitome of health."

Doctor Jivel ignores him and turns to Gohan. "You'll be able to contact me from your chambers. There will be a private computer there. It's like a telephone, like we spoke about, remember? I'll answer right away."

Gohan swallows, hardly remembering to use his words. "R-right."

That seems to be good enough for the doctor, who then offers him the warmest smile Gohan has yet seen from him. "Well, I'll be on my way then." The doctor takes one last fleeting look at Gohan, appearing to waver between leaning over and giving him a pat or just a simple wave. In the end, it's an awkward bow of the head that sees him off. "Goodbye, my lords."

_Don't be sick._

B-but, Doctor Jivel can't just leave him here... Right...?

Yet he does. Gohan watches as the doctor disappears through the trees and into the darkness.

A hand clips Gohan's shoulder.

"Goddamn. Aren't you just adorable now?"

Lord Rixas eagerly leads them through the gate and into the estate grounds. The darkness of night hides most of its features, but Gohan knows fancy when he sees it. He's been to Videl's mansion a handful of times. Her father has more money than he knows what to do with, and Gohan guesses it's the same here. The place just screams _money_.

The door to the estate is a large metal antique. Engravings of beautiful patterns glow in the same soft lighting as outside the estate. Surprisingly, it swings open smoothly and without sound when Lord Rixas jostles with the knob.

The reveal steals Gohan's breath. Shades of silver stand out first, then the bronze and copper. The room doesn't have the old timey feel Gohan had originally expected, but instead it feels rich and modern. Beautiful artwork enhances the walls, acting as the backdrop to antiques of many varieties. Nearby is a shining, golden fireplace (not currently lit), and a little beyond that, plump, silver armchairs sit before a grand staircase. The staircase swirls through an open ceiling and onto many eternally expanding floors.

"Weird," Gohan hears Lord Rixas breathlessly laugh. "I guess it's like your first time seeing this."

"It's nothing like my home on Earth..."

Lord Rixas stares briefly before offering Gohan his finest pearly-white grin.

"If you're impressed by some mouldy old stairs I can't wait to show you to your wing."

Gohan allows himself to be pulled along, assuming Lord Rixas to be the touchy type. For the first time, he actually feels bad about not being this guy's brother. The positivity radiating from him is contagious, and it reminds Gohan very much of his dad.

_When he finds out the truth, that I'm not his brother..._

He thinks of Goten, however, now brother-less. Ever since Goten had been a baby Gohan's always been there. The amount of nappies Gohan's changed is more than any brother should have to deal with in one lifetime.

Gosh, just how is Goten coping? Worse yet, how is his mother coping? They have to be alright, his dad is with them. Surely he'll be able to do what Gohan can't right now.

He'll get back to them for sure.

Lord Rixas takes Gohan on a further journey down long winding corridors. The stonework is older now, and the lights are becoming dimmer. The gold and silver of the lobby subtly transitions into dusty blues; this is from the wall hangings to the occasional armchair. They all look terribly expensive.

Finally, they reach their, what Gohan assumes to be, destination. At the end of the corridor is another fine door, embellished and shiny. The engravings are similar to the ones on the front door. Patterns of lines and circles swirl around one another in a symmetric dance.

"It feels kinda' weird going in first," Lord Rixas says with humour. He gives Gohan a shove towards the door. "Go on."

Gohan offers a look of mild horror, but is pushed again before he can argue.

_Just do it._

He swallows and graces his fingers over the metal of the door. The handle is pretty stiff but the door does eventually creek open, if a little eerily. The room is pitch black, running deep.

"Ha-ha! You've come back as a right wuss, little brother!" Lord Rixas laughs. "Go on!"

Lord Rixas gives him a final push. Stumbling into the darkness, Gohan flinches as sudden buzzing sounds around him. It's comparable to a small group of cicadas humming in commendable unison. A click follows and then a dozen lights flicker on one after another.

It isn't like the soft warm lighting of downstairs. It reminds Gohan of being in a shop, the kind of light that gives you a headache after a couple of hours being stuck in it. After the lights, the first thing Gohan notices is the rows of bookcases. Books are scattered along the bases of the shelves; fat ones, thin ones, some large, and others smaller than his palm. There are so many books that Gohan wouldn't even know where to start.

_I guess you liked to read, huh, Mori?_

Beyond the small sea of books sits a dark wooden desk. On it, there is a reading lamp leaning over a stack of yellowed parchment. Several papers also litter along the floor, and what must be a computer with its large slightly curved screen, hides just behind the lamp. It looks like it hasn't seen any attention in a long time. A fine layer of dust greys out the blackness of the monitor.

"I'll talk to the cleaner about that," Lord Rixas grunts as he catches Gohan staring at the computer. It's a childish sound, reminding Gohan very much of Goten not getting his own way.

Beyond the study area, Gohan really can see the grandness of the room. The ceilings are high, and the one window that is there is large and looks out over (what must be) the forest. Two of those silver armchairs are poised by the largest bed Gohan has ever seen in his life. It is in a poster style with silver and blue curtains draping over it in a sweeping fashion. The pillows are plump and look to be stuffed to the brim with feathers, neatly nestling between silver sheets.

In fact, the whole room is a grand mix of the dusty blue he saw leading to the chambers and silver. It has a striking effect. The only thing that isn't silver is the bronze fireplace. That, too, is engulfed in beautiful engravings. It has the same circles and lines he'd seen on the door.

"It's the old writing form of Lanit-Tongue," Lord Rixas explains, giving the fireplace a fond pet. "You've always been rather taken with it."

"The writing or the fireplace?"

Lord Rixas chuckles, the gold in his eyes lighting up. "Both. Normally you wouldn't let me get close to this old thing. You always like to remind me that it's some rare antique."

Gohan stares at it but can't find anything special other than its looks. "I guess it's kinda' pretty?"

The other man guffaws in response. "Oh man, there was a time I would have paid to hear you say that."

Gohan awkwardly shuffles as Lord Rixas continues laughing to himself. Laughing seems to be the man's default setting. He's so totally unlike Lord Quell. Are they actually even brothers?

"Er, Lord Rixas, I was j-"

"Whoa, whoa, no." Lord Rixas drops the chuckling, but keeps that wide smile he seems to enjoy wearing. His blonde-white hair wobbles when he shakes his head. "No, none of that. You're my _brother_ , Mori. We don't say 'lord', our names will do quite nicely, okay?"

Gohan wants to tell Lord Rixas how mistaken the poor guy is, and that he's not Lord Rixas' brother, that this room is definitely not his, and that the mountain of books over there is clearly beyond him.

Yet, Lord Rixas seems to read all that from his mind by just staring at Gohan's face.

"The doc said you're gonna' work with us," Lord Rixas says, his tone not as light. There's an element reminiscent of chiding a child. "So, call me 'Rixas'."

A frown settles over Gohan's face, one which Lord Rixas notices in an instance. He flicks Gohan in the forehead. "You can call me 'Big Brother' if you want."

Gohan's hand is quick to shield his forehead. That hurt! "I have a feeling I would never have called you that."

The grin returns. "Then call me 'Rixas'!"

Rixas it is.

At least Doctor Jivel had given him some time to sort things through his head, Lor –Rixas expects him to just get on with it as though one just wakes up with a different life every day.

Rixas' eyes grow. "Oh, don't go calling Quell 'Lord' either. I know he'd _hate_ that. It's just kinda' weird between us, y'know? Not protocol."

"Er, right. That makes sense. He'd been pretty angry with me back at the Spire."

Rixas quirks his head. "Oh yeah? Don't take it to heart. He's just like that, ya'know?"

No, doesn't… It's frustrating. Here's one brother who seems to be so relaxed about the situation that he may as well be horizontal, and then there's Quell, the one who only seemed to visit him to insult and berate him. Gohan can't decide which he prefers. Talk about picking your poison.

A thought hits him.

"Uh, _Rixas_ ,"

" _Mori_..."

Not his name, but he's sure he'll have to get used to it. "Our parents, will I meet them?"

Rixas' brows shoot up, the smile gone, but he still looks highly amused. He's silent for a while and when Gohan goes to speak again, he's interrupted. "We don't have parents."

"Oh, ah, oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean t-"

"No, I mean... ah, well, it's complicated." He sizes Gohan up before shaking his head and sighing. "No, that doctor said to wait. We'll talk about that bit in the future, 'kay? For now, know that you have two big bros' who'll take care of ya."

Rixas offers a cheeky wink.

So, Mori didn't have parents. Or if he did they were dead. Maybe. Who knew?

Wait.

"I'm the youngest?" _Mori's the youngest_ , he corrects.

"Does that bother you?"

No, maybe, kind of? Well, it explains Rixas' constant hands on approach. Gohan has to admit that he's pretty physically affectionate with Goten. A head pat here, a hug there...

"It's weird. I have a brother back home."

Instead of correcting Gohan about being Mori, Rixas actually seems interested. The hair droops when he curtseys his head. "Really? A kid brother?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Ha ha! I couldn't imagine you interacting with a child, another thing I'd pay to see."

Gohan gives a non-committal hum, feeling suddenly shy. He runs his fingers along the fireplace. It _is_ pretty.

"You know, it's so weird" Rixas begins. He nestles himself into a plush looking armchair as he gestures to Gohan with a wave. "You look the same except for the hair, a bit skinny I guess, but otherwise you don't look any different really -on the outside. But your personality is totally different. It's blowing my mind."

Gohan drops his gaze. What the heck can he say to that?

Rixas kicks the neighbouring armchair as a sign for Gohan to sit down. He does sit, and the plushness of the chair pillows him in place.

Gohan jumps when Rixax claps his hands together. "So you had a brother-"

"-Have"

Rixas snorts. "Okay, you _have_ a brother. What else? The doc said you had this whole other life on some nowhere planet. Earth, right? How old are you? Have you got a family? Girlfriend?"

Gohan doesn't know what to answer first.

It turns out that he doesn't need to because at that moment there's a knock at the door.

"Go away!" Rixas calls out quickly. It's followed by another knock.

They share a pause of silence, and Gohan briefly wonders if Rixas expects him to answer. It _is_ his room. The third knock, now sounding impatient and louder in contrast, persuades Rixas to finally move.

"Ugh fine," he grunts, springing up like a cat. Rixas touches Gohan on the shoulder as he passes. The simple sign of affection makes Gohan feel remarkably uncomfortable and a little guilty. Rixas seems so nice, if just a little too intense.

He doesn't appear nice to whoever is at the door however. It opens with an ungraceful swing, Rixas making sure to block Gohan from seeing this mystery guest.

"What?" Rixas snaps, leaning against the doorframe.

Gohan can't hear the other person or Rixas as they share what seems to be a heated but very quiet conversation. He cranes his neck to get a better look but is rewarded with very little. Gohan doubts it's the scary brother from the other day; Quell. Quell doesn't seem to be a person you would reject at your door.

The person must have left because Rixas shuts the door. Gohan returns back into the embrace of the armchair and stares up at Rixas expectedly.

"Salesmen," Rixas says with such a straight face that Gohan nearly believes him. He laughs and bats a hand. "Nah, it's one of the staff –one of yours. But you'll see later. Baby steps were what the doctor ordered!"

Gohan doesn't believe that Rixas has ever heeded an order in his life, especially one from poor Doctor Jivel. And another thing…

"I have staff?"

"She's an assistant," he tells Gohan as he swings his legs over the arm of the armchair. Something about the action annoys Gohan for some reason.

"I have staff…"

"Ha-ha! Of course. I have servants too. You've met my _assistant_ already, Captain Roarg."

"Who?"

"The woman who delivered you to me. Tall one, built like an ox…"

_Oh!_

The sensation of a braid slapping him across the face stings in memory. Gohan rubs his cheek on instinct. "Yes, I remember her. Captain… Roarg…"

"Don't look like that. She's a riot after a drink, though saying that... I don't think you were overly fond of her _before_ becoming a vegetable…"

"Please don't say that."

Rixas sniggers, his grin cutting so far up into his cheeks Gohan half expects him to turn into the Cheshire Cat. "Ehhh, so touchy."

After a beat, Gohan scratches as the back of his head. "Look, uh, Rixas, I'm kind of tired-"

"Say no more!" He pounces up with his usual grin. There's a determined finger pointed right under Gohan's nose. "You've gotta' get your beauty sleep after all. Doc said you need rest so that's what you'll get! I'll make sure of it!"

"Er, r-right."

"Leave it to your big brother, your favourite by the way."

"Uh…"

"I'll be by in the morning, bright and early, so don't worry about a wakeup call. I've actually been looking forward to this all week since I finding out!"

Gohan doesn't like the sound of that. "Finding out what?"

Rixas' eyes dazzle in their golden glory. "Well, that you're saiyan, of course!" His hands slap together. "Yes! Yes! Yes! Tomorrow you can show me all your moves! I want to see everything you can do!"

"He-hey, hold up. The doctor sai-"

"Saiyans love to fight. You must be itching for it after lying cooped up in that bed all week. Don't worry, little brother, I'll help you stretch your legs!"

"Now hang on-"

"Goodnight!"

Rixas gives him two reassuring thumbs-up before plying the door open, slamming it behind him so hard that the room shakes. A pillow falls off the bed. The teenager groans, hands smothering his face.

Just what has he gotten himself into?


	5. Monster in the Woods

When Gohan had been a kid he'd been a much heavier sleeper than he is now. Those typical school anxieties of studying for a test, or being late in the mornings, often have him tossing and turning midweek. Even before he'd started school Gohan's sleeping had grown lighter and lighter. Sometimes he only gets five or six hours a night, seven if he's lucky, which only begs the question; why the heck did Gohan just manage to sleep like a rock all the night through?

Sure, he contemplates as he stares past the curtain's crack of light, this bed is like sleeping on a cloud consisting entirely of feathers, but he's still in a new place and Gohan should really be more cautious than this. The bed then draws him in deeper, blues and silvers nestling softly against his skin with its padded luxury as if to persuade him otherwise. Gohan groans, flagging into its silky embrace. Gosh, it's so good. He's only ever seen something like this in movies; beds so huge and spreading so wide that Gohan could roll over thrice and still not fall off. Being treated to its cushy glory makes him believe that those movies have never done it justice.

Then it's all ruined with a knock at the door.

Gohan stiffens, unsure what to do. He's only in his underwear after not being able to find where Mori keeps his night clothes last night, and considering how long it took him to learn how to fasten his robes yesterday he may as well not bother answering the door for another hour. When the knock comes again the teenager wilts even more into his bedding.

There's only one more knock, one which yet again goes ignored, making Gohan feel guilty as a following silence lingers on afterwards. Whoever it was must have gone now because the teenager can't hear or sense anyone beyond the walls. Actually, Gohan can't sense anyone, period. There's an uncomfortable flatness of ki around him making him wonder if the Realm of the Almighty holds a special ability that conceals people's energy readings. After being able to feel the intricacies of individuality in people's ki for so long it feels kind of weird not being able to do so now; maybe a bit lonely if he's honest…

Now feeling it safe to do so, Gohan slips out from his nest of covers. His toes tap against the cool of wood and he admires his surroundings. There'd been little chance to last night what with Rixas hovering around. After he'd left, Gohan had crashed immediately, soaking into the bed and floating through the night in comfortable bliss. Now that he's looking around the room he can see how truly big it is; the sea of bookshelves, the cool blues and silvers of the fabrics complimenting the forever sprawling walls… Really, it's something to look at, especially with all the different alcoves leading who knows where. There's a nook hidden behind the fireplace, one Gohan hadn't noticed last night, and home to a stash of papers and instruments the teenager can't recognize with their strange shapes and colourful designs. Beyond them, scattered pens and books lay askew on the floor. The urge to pick them up and clean overcomes him and he spends the first ten minutes of his morning clearing up Mori's clutter.

"What a messy guy," Gohan comments as he fishes a dust-clad book from under a desk.

He picks up several but this one really stands out to him. Even under the layers of grey Gohan can see the shiny gloss of letters wink back him. They protrude from the cover, feeling bumpy to the touch, and when he opens it, dust takes to the sky in a sheeted cloud, causing Gohan to splutter and cough into the crook of his elbow. When the smog clears he flicks through the fragile pages. The content is dense with miniscule scrawl he wouldn't be able to decipher even if he was able to write in Lanit-Tongue. Words curve in around diagrams and complicated drawings, some of which have been labelled in even smaller, messier writing.

One picture he's able to recognize is of an abstract drawing of a humanoid like figure, one standing adjacent a box of text in its crude silhouette. A swooping tail flows from behind its back.

"A… saiyan?"

Suddenly, there's another knock at the door. Gohan drops the book and the collection of pencils.

"I –uh…"

Instead of a knock it's a loud banging.

"I-I'm coming!"

He'd completely forgotten that someone had earlier been calling for him. It sounds serious now, unhappy. Could it be Rixas, or worse yet… could it be Quell?

Gohan grabs the cloak he'd folded up last night, throwing it over him for modesty's sake. As he goes to answer the door something in his gut tells him to secure the notebook. He does so, hiding it under a stack of intimidating-looking books near the nook.

Once he's fumbled with the lock, the door swings open outwards with a dramatic flail and the person on the other side can be heard crying out from the shock.

His hands reach out. "Ah, I'm sorry! Are you alright?"

"I'm sorry!" replies the knocker, one Gohan quickly recognizes as one Doctor Hezk. Her face is bright red and she looks so dizzy that she might just fall over right then and there. "I –I just… I was told to come knock again but this time louder because you might still be asleep, but then once I started knocking I just couldn't stop and that must have sounded like something crazy in there because you had to have ran from wherever you were in your room which I know is private, but still I–"

"W-Woah there. You're talking way too fast–"

"Ah, I'm sorry! I—I just… uh…"

"Are you okay?"

"Er… yes –sorry, yes, my lord… No, I mean –I forgot, you don't like that- I…"

Gohan considers her, scratching the back of his head. Still growing ever redder the poor doctor just stares back, zapped.

Her eyes close and a long stream of air leaves through her nostrils. "Okay, let's try this again…Good morning, I'm h-here to check up on you as Doctor Jivel requested, a-and I'm here to perform some examinations."

"Oh, er, sure." They both stand there for a moment until Gohan realises that he should probably invite her in. "Oh, I'm sorry. After you…"

Oh. No, Gohan's wrong. It's definitely after _him_. She doesn't budge an inch until the teenager awkwardly shuffles backwards into Mori's room. After he shuts the door behind her he leads her back to where he and Rixas had been sitting last night. Next to the two arm chairs there sits a deep blue sofa, it faces the fireplace in wonderful opposition to the bronze and looks to be far older than Gohan. He gestures her to sit there and she does without question.

The doctor has a decently sized book with her. Flashes of paper appear from various angles under a prim cover, contrasting the surrounding antique books of Mori's room. She places it on the coffee table in front and stares up at him with tinted cheeks.

"I can wait for you to…"

Gohan tilts his head. "Huh, what?"

Her eyes trail down to his bare chest. It's peeking out from the badly tied robe.

"AH! Okay, yes, er, okay." His face burns. Doctor or not this is still a young woman. Gohan should know better. He awkwardly bounds into the more private section of the space, nearing the bed but stopping short of the huge wardrobe and mirror.

_You really are a fancy lord, huh?_

It's far more extravagant than Gohan's ever seen, even at Videl's. The wardrobe opens up to a fine selection of robes and cloaks. They're shaded in rich and dark colours with the brightest garment being an optimistic shade of purple. With creaks, they slide across the railing as Gohan looks for something that may be easy-to-wear. Buttons and clips of varying difficulty face back and he feels himself pale.

Finally the teenager spots a baggy pair of dark pants hidden at the back. There's a silver top to go with them, one which luckily sits on the top of a folded gold obi, one patterned with that familiar horse silhouette. Gohan closes his eyes and thanks his lucky stars.

The fit is pretty good actually. The pants are only a little long, but the top fits perfectly. It's maybe a bit too tight for Gohan's taste, reminding him unpleasantly of Namek and clingy spandex, but otherwise he counts it as a win.

"Sorry about that," he says as he emerges from the curved partition.

The doctor looks less red, glaring hard at the book on the table. "No, no. This is your room. You could walk around here naked if you– _Wah_ , I mean–" She looks up at him, flustered, just to stop midsentence. Her words desert her as she appraises his newly chosen outfit …and then she says something which makes his stomach sink. "Oh, you _really_ do look like him in his colours."

Gohan's brows knit together and his mouth opens. She catches the disappointment and clasps a hand over her mouth.

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said that! That was really unprofessional of me."

He wrings his hands together and lowers himself into the armchair facing her. "No… It's fine, I guess. I think I'm going to have to get used to it at some point."

"Right," she replies, sounding unsure. Another deep breath is taken.

She's really nervous, the teenager notices. Just what kind of guy was Mori to be able to strike this level of fear into someone? Was it just Mori? Because even Doctor Jivel seemed nervous at the idea of Quell, and he'd played formal with Rixas when he'd dropped Gohan off at the estate last night. Who the heck are these brothers?

Gohan takes the initiative. "So my name's Gohan, and I'm from planet Earth. I know Doctor Jivel told you a bit about me but I thought it'd be nice to start from the beginning seeing as we're going to working together. Can you tell me anything about yourself?"

The smile he offers seems to calm her just a bit. She folds over, leaning on her knees as she responds in kind. "Of course, my lor— _Gohan_. Er… let me see… My name is Hezk of the Seventh, and I was assigned as a doctor at the Spire Infirmary nearly fifteen years ago–"

"Fifteen years ago? Jus—oh, wait, years are recorded differently here? Ah, sorry, continue. Please continue!"

Doctor Hezk actually smiles. "Yes, I believe we use different measurement systems. I'm sure you'll become accustomed to our system in due time."

"So are you from around here?"

"Oh no, I'm from a small planet in the East Quadrant, nearing the Central Universal Station. You know where that is?"

"Er… no."

"Oh, well, it's quite a modern planet, one I miss but you can't really say no when you're handpicked by gods to work in the Realm of the Almighty, can you?"

Gohan leans forward. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Her eyes widen. "O-Oh, sorry. I need to be more careful with my words. Doctor Jivel said-"

"Handpicked by gods?"

She appears sheepish. The robe around her knees comes together as she knocks her legs. "We're in a sacred place. The Realm of the Almighty only lets few registered mortals in. I'm one of those mortals. It's standard to choose special mortals for their knowledge in whatever specialist field they excel in. I work with patients who have magical-related memory issues mostly, but I also happen to be a gifted researcher too."

He remembers her face from the other day. It'd bubbled in excitement at the mere prospect of analysing him.

"And this Mori guy…"

"Lord Mori is a residing god in this realm, one of several which exist both in this realm and outside of it."

"And what's he a god of?"

Doctor Hezk's forehead creases thickly behind a fringe of brown. "I shouldn't really say at this stage, not until we unearth some prior memories or personality quirks."

It's like a cold smack to the face. "Personality?! What do you mean–"

"It's just part of the parcel, Gohan," she explains. "Most reincarnated patients just experience cases of déjà vu now and then."

He has to remind himself that he's not actually this Mori guy and so he doesn't need to worry, but there's something about the entire thing which makes him feel uncomfortable. His arms fold up neatly against his chest; less out of defiance and more out of an awkward reaction. "You really do think I'm Mori, huh?"

The doctor quirks her lips at him. "If we're going off your records then yes."

"You know I don't agree, right?"

She nods and then proceeds to open up the book before her. Her fingers trail the bent corners of yellowing documents, and she looks between Gohan and the pages as she speaks. "I'm not here to prove one thing or another. The truth will become the result of the exercises we'll work on together, and we'll know down the line whether or not you're actually the reincarnated soul of Lord Mori."

"But you think he's still rattling about my brain…"

There's a plucking of paper from the book and she turns, looking up with an anxious smile, one which hides the fire of burning scientific curiosity. "I sure hope so."

So the activities start off small and non-threatening. Gohan is tasked with recounting small details about his life, the miniscule day-to-day moments which make up his fairly mundane routine. He can't help but excitedly tell her the stories of the Great Saiyaman when that comes up, but her reaction is hardly worth his built up dramatics.

"You don't think it's cool?"

She doesn't say anything and just scribbles something down in her notebook, smiling blandly. With much ado, next he talks about his history with martial arts, ki and just general experiences with the wickedly strong.

"You went up against Frieza?" she says, pen flattening against the page.

"Er… yeah. I was young so some of it is a bit blurry these days."

"That's impressive for a mortal."

Gohan's brows drop. She's said that numerous times now, as though mortals aren't anything worth writing home about, like the only people deserving of strength are the gods themselves. He doesn't say anything because it's not really his place. Once this is all straightened out then he can go home and get on with his wonderfully mortal life.

"Okay, my next question… Let's see here… Oh, Gohan, have you ever experienced any black-outs?"

"Black-outs? Like from fighting?"

Doctor Hezk runs the pen along her lips. "No, more like… bouts of missing memory. Maybe you've been fighting and things get too much and _–bam_ – you wake up and you don't know what's just happened."

The effect is immediate. His lips roll inwards and his eyes bulge, and before he can hide the reaction she waves her pen at him.

"Oh, do tell!"

"I-I… It wasn't like _that_ ," he brushes off, "I've always had a special kind of power within me. It often came out when my friends were in danger or something bad just happened." The hungry look about her has returned in full force, but he's having none of it. "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. The Elder Kai unleashed the power within me. I'm stronger for it now."

"The kais…?"

"Yes! I've been trying to tell you guys but no-one's listening –but I _know_ the Supreme Kai. He's a friend. If someone could put me in touch with him then this could all easily be resolved."

Doctor Hezk coughs into her hand, quick to appear uneasy. She then writes a long paragraph in her notebook in her neat and pointed handwriting. Gohan can't read any of it but by her expression the content isn't good. In fact, there's a confliction about how she progresses her next paragraph, practically killing the teenager as he waits in apprehension.

" _What_?" he asks when he can't take it anymore. "Just what is it? What's wrong about knowing the kais?"

"Nothing." She slams the book shut. Pah, like he can read it anyway… "Don't worry about it. It's just worth noting that you've had experience with kai magic. Okay, let's leave that there. Tell me about these blackouts. When was the last time you had one? Most people generally stop around childhood."

Gohan's lips pull tight. "Yeah, probably around about nine or ten I'd say. Childhood."

"And you remember nothing at all from these events?"

"I'm told about what happened after but–"

"Nothing?"

"No."

Doctor Hezk aims the pen back in his direction. "Did anyone note any personality changes in you during these times?"

It's like she's asking all the right questions to trip him up. He sighs raggedly as he scratches the back of his head. It's all getting a bit annoying now.

"Is this really necessary, Doctor? With all due respect, I long ago dealt with this side of myself. My dad and Piccolo really helped me learn how to overcome these hurdles, and with the help of the Elder Kai I finally managed to unlock this hidden power."

She hums non-committedly. "Okay then, well, let's leave this here today, Gohan."

He blanches. "Huh? What? Already?"

"We've spoken a lot about your past today and I want you to consider what we've just spoken about." The doctor rises from her chair and collects her things. "In the meantime, before tomorrow's session, I want you to try and recollect the strong emotions you were feeling before your blackouts as a child. I know it might be difficult but I'd appreciate it if you tried."

Gohan goes to follow her to the door. "But we didn't do anything other than talk? I thought you'd want me to do some hypnosis stuff or something. Are we really finished for the day?"

"Yes," she replies, somewhat amused. "The process will take longer than a day, sir."

_I'm never going to get home at this rate…_

"And," Doctor Hezk continues as she reaches for the door handle. "There's not much more we can accomplish if you're so closed off to the idea of being Lord Mori. Cooperation will help us seek the truth."

His cheeks burn, he doesn't mean to come across rude yet it's hard to be passionate about something you don't believe in. The doctor then bows, stirring discomfort in his stomach, before exiting through Mori's chamber doors. They close with a resounding clink and he's once again left alone, that is until Rixas comes knocking at his door a further twenty minutes later.

* * *

Rixas had excitedly dragged Gohan out of the confines of Mori's room the moment he got the chance. Starry eyed, he'd first admired the teenager in the gi before routing around the wardrobe and chucking a pair of black boots at him. It's a bit of a shame because Gohan had been somewhat enjoying himself at the time, exploring the grand quarters and peering through the dust-clad books.

"Now that's a sight I'm used to," Rixas had said upon spotting Gohan perusing a brick-like book.

After being pried from the haven, Gohan is then led through the estate and into an impressive garden. It spans far into the distance, meeting the morning horizon with a soft kiss of green and yellow. The earlier seen forest from last night goes on just as immeasurably. The dewy specks glisten atop trees and fields of emerald as the sun peaks behind branches and vines.

It's a breath-taking sight, one which makes him yearn for his mountain home and his family. Passing through a thick of trees and vast collection of flowers Gohan's next led to where he can just about make out the flow of a river. He soon hears the hush of water as they approach.

"I've barely slept," Rixas says as he stops near the bank. He'd been carrying a bag with him filled with water and what Gohan recognizes as nutrition bars (they come in a vast amount at the Spire). One of these bars is thrown to Gohan before the man helps himself to one. "I've been super excited to see what you can do."

"Er… I'm not sure if this is a good idea."

Rixas appears affronted. "And why not?" A finger jabs into Gohan's chest and he grins. "I refuse to let you take this from me!"

The teenager's brows knit together.

"Let's warm up," Rixas says after a bout of stretches. "I wanna' see your hand-to-hand stuff first."

For some reason the teenager's got a bad feeling about this.

That feeling is justified when Gohan kisses the dirt for the third time in a row. The _'_ warm up' is hardly such a thing, what with Rixas wasting zero time in pummelling Gohan at every given opportunity.

Gohan's never seen anything like this. Sure, he's never prided himself on being the strongest warrior out there but Gohan knows that he's no push-over. The fight with Buu (despite losing) proved that. Even his dad doesn't hold back.

But now…

Streams of red pulse out from Gohan's deeply inflicted cuts across the bridge of his nose. He spits out the phlegmy taste of metal as he gazes up at his opponent.

"Uwah, I thought saiyans were strong," then complains Rixas. With rapt horror, Gohan realises that there's not even a bead of sweat from atop the man's forehead.

_This guy…_

The teenager swivels in the dirt. He jumps up in attempt to land his boot into the man's ribs. Rixas catches it as though he'd just been tickled with a feather.

_…is a monster._

"You've got girly legs."

Gohan twists hard and manages to kick Rixas in the neck. The brute doesn't move but he does however laugh. He laughs and laughs as he twirls Gohan around like a mid-air ballerina, all before launching the teenager back down into the dirt. Gohan skids even further than before.

"Oooh," Rixas goads, clapping his hands. "Bravo! That almost hurt! I think if you keep it up you may actually give me a cramp."

They've been swapping strikes for the last forty or so minutes. It hadn't taken Gohan long to realise how severely outmatched he is. This guy is something else. It's like going against a tank when you're riding a bicycle; each punch swung is enough to make the teenager's head explode.

"There are ballads about saiyans, you know; folk songs, legends, stories, all sorts of things. I've never met a _real_ saiyan though. Ya know, I've gotta' say that I'm kind of disappointed."

"This is pointless!" Gohan tells him, "You're just too strong! What's the use?"

" _Mori…"_ He wags his finger, clicking his tongue and shaking his head like a disappointed father. "What a poor attitude you have. Don't you think you should try harder?"

"You're a _god_. I'm not exactly a good enough match for you, am I?"

"Hogwash excuse. Get up. I can sense that you're stronger than this pitiful performance. You've never been one for the physical prowess of fighting but you _are_ a talented ki-user."

" _Rixas_ ," Gohan grunts as he drags himself up. Doctor Jivel would be so annoyed if he could see him now. He'd told Gohan to avoid physical activities yet here he is; Rixas' personal punching bag on this fine morning. "Rixas, come on, you're clearly leagues above me here, and the doctor did sa-"

"You're so lazy," Rixas chides, "saiyans are supposed to enjoy the thick of a fight-"

"I'm half."

"Oh? And what's your other half? Sloth?"

"Human," he tells the lumbering concoction of energy. "Humans live on Earth."

Gohan then stretches his legs out, frowning. They're not girly at all…

"Human…" Rixas tests out. "Hooman. Hewmen?"

He then can't help but laugh at the strange faces Rixas makes with his childish attempts. Funnily enough, Rixas reminds Gohan a lot of his dad in some ways. He's a positive kind of guy, upbeat and fun. There's an air of not taking things too seriously, and there's also the boundless supply of energy that comes with him. Unlike his dad, however, comes something needier and deeper. He's caught Rixas staring at him at least a few times just this morning, staring at him as though Gohan might just disappear any second.

_He's just happy to have his brother back…_

That thought doesn't ease him.

"Okay," Rixas begins, "your form sucks. Sorry, it does." He punches a fist against his hand. "I hate it and we'll have to change it."

Gohan bristles. "What? I'm not changing anything."

"Eh? And _why_ not? I just told you that it sucks."

Another thing Gohan's discovered with this guy; somehow he just manages to say all the right things to get a reaction from him.

"My dad and my teacher helped me wi–"

"Yeah, and they must suck too."

Something in his forehead twitches and Gohan has to swallow his bubbling anger. "My dad's the strongest person I know."

Rixas, like a puppy, tilts his head, looking as innocently lost as Goten would be over a maths equation. "Eh? But… you know me now?"

_So arrogant!_

Really, it's like he's doing it on purpose but Gohan truly suspects this guy is just that full of himself. As he completes another batch of stretches, the man flashes Gohan his shiniest smile whilst the teenager just steams and bites his tongue. Talk about being thick-headed. Gohan's not sure how much longer he can take of this guy without losing his mind; he's never been very good at dealing with characters like Rixas. They drain him.

Smearing the blood away, he gazes back over the glorious landscape to try and take a minute for himself. With the sun waking up fully, the area is gleaming with a renewed kind of beauty. The lilac of the sky is almost too rich to look at as it backdrops the rolling hills and spots of greenery.

"It's nice, right?"

Gohan turns back to see Rixas softly smiling, no longer hungry for chaos. The gold flecks catch the sun and the man shines like the god he is.

"It's calming to look at. I thought the same on the Planet of the Kais –the sky, I mean."

"What colour is it on your Earth?"

"Blue on a good day, but usually it's grey where I live."

"Sounds depressing."

Gohan sighs, brows pressing low. "It's beautiful there. Earth is beautiful."

The man gestures upwards to the sky with a nod. "And here? How about the Realm of the Almighty? The estate?"

The teenager knows Rixas is looking for a particular answer. There's no use in deceiving the guy. With a titter, he replies; "Yeah, it's pretty."

A pause passes and then Rixas snorts a laugh. His eyes are bright as he mimics Gohan's tone; " _Pretty_ , huh?"

With a forming headache, Gohan wants to thump the guy, but is grabbed by the back of the scruff before he can do anything.

"Okay, princess, let's continue this before you start breaking into song about the birds and the flowers."

The teenager feels his head really pound.

_What a piece of work you are._

* * *

**Age 780**

**Mount Paozu, Earth**

Goten Son doesn't like many a thing. He doesn't like English class, he doesn't like leeks, and he certainly doesn't like homework. But there are really only a few things which he _hates_. Training is one of those things. Call him lazy, call him whatever; Goten didn't ask to be born a half-saiyan. The fact that he can fly is pretty cool. That comes in use sometimes, and the super strength can be helpful, but really, Goten would trade it all for a normal life any day.

If being super-powered comes with all the baggage he has to deal with then no thanks.

He slouches against his schoolbag as he sits atop the plush of a floating yellow cloud. The ever-loyal Nimbus cushions him as they glide over mountaintops and trees. Angrily, the summer heat has discoloured some of the tree's upper leaves an unhappy brown, parching them without the usual humidity. Rain is long overdue and Goten half expects there to be a thunderstorm around the corner any day now. He wonders, daring to hope, if the thunderstorm will strike whilst he visits his dad. Any reason to skirt out of training sounds wonderful to him.

When the Mausoleum appears in its hub of trees and overgrown grass Nimbus knowingly descends.

"Thanks, bud," Goten says to the little cloud as he jumps off. Nimbus rejoices, giving Goten the show of a flip before flying up and disappearing against the blue.

Goten sighs, pulling his backpack up as he opens the front door. As usual it's unlocked.

"Dad," he calls. An empty hallway faces back. "Dad, are you home?"

…Of course not.

Goten groans when he notices a pile up of letters by the door. Usually the cleaner would at least put them in the kitchen where Goten would go through them to see what's junk and what's not. For being in the middle of nowhere, his dad gets a surprising amount of mail. The teenager suspects that the letters are still on the floor because yet another cleaner quit. They usually do after a few months, becoming sick of cleaning up the trails of blood weeping from his dad's wounds after his more vigorous training sessions.

Goten flicks through the letters as he makes his way to the kitchen. Junk. Junk. Junk. Pizza coupons…? Who would actually deliver pizza out here? Jesus, he might just give them a call tonight just to see what happens.

When Goten arrives to the kitchen he knows that the last cleaner must have indeed quit.

"Eugh…"

Bandages lay strewn across the tiled floor, splodges of blood tell a journey of a man hurrying to and from the kitchen sink, and Goten even spots bloodied used rags littering the area near the bin. He grimaces. The attempt to put them in the bin hadn't even been made. Yes, Goten thinks, he would have quit too. Hopefully Bulma has someone else that would be willing to take the journey all the way out here.

Unceremoniously, he throws the letters down against the red stain on the counter. Goten knows a lost cause when he sees one and so just heads up to his room. A lingering smell of dust accompanies him as he creaks up the stairs. His room, at least, is respectfully clean. It's not tidy, but it's clean. There's a difference. Goten throws his backpack on his bed and contemplates the sparse belongings about his room. Many of his childhood toys still live here, and there is a collection of books and boxed games he used to enjoy. Yes, apart from a handful of things there isn't much here to reflect his teenage self. Yet, Goten doesn't bother bringing any of his stuff from Fire Mountain here, even though it would help with the boredom. It's just too much effort for how little time he actually spends in this rotting museum.

His phone is the real hero of this story. Thank God for online streaming (when the Internet even works out here).

However, after staring at his lock screen for a good five minutes Goten finds he can't concentrate on much of anything at all. After managing to persuade his mother that he needed the phone for 'homework' purposes, he'd managed to bring it. Yet, he can't even bring himself to use it. He closes his eyes slowly. School today had been just awful. On any normal day he'd be more thankful that it's Friday, but Goten's been dreading this day all week after his mother sentenced him to training with his dad. Whilst the newly graded maths test sits unhappily in his bag with a fat _F_ written in the corner this hadn't been the worst news of the day.

He sulks, scowling as he draws his curtains closed.

Videl had sent out her wedding invitations this afternoon. It took three or four times of Goten reading it for it to seem real. For a start, he can tell that Videl had zero input on then invitations because they're far too classy and pink for them to come across as anything remotely _her_. It must have been her friend, the ditzy one –what's she called? – _Ah_ , Erasa. She must have been the one to put this together, and he blames her because he hates everything from the horrible script writing to the nasty colour used for the font. Most importantly, however, what he _really_ hates is the groom's name.

_Haruto Orange._

Seriously. His last name is _Orange_.

Goten seethes as he flops onto his bed. His bag jumps in greeting, the test paper falling out just to spite him. He throws it –and the bag– against the wall before curling up against the mountain of stuffed bears of which still live atop his bed.

Videl shouldn't be getting married. It's not right. It's too soon. Besides…Goten l—

The door bangs open.

"You're here!"

"Dad!"

"Finally," his dad goes on to say, "C'mon, let's get going before it starts to rain."

Dad has clearly been training already. His clothes are astonishingly filthy and Goten spots the hint of blood sporting beneath the fabric of his gi. The guy's relentless. When Goten hides his head under his pillow he feels the man tugging at his legs.

"No getting out of it today, kiddo," Goten hears his dad say, slightly muffled courtesy of the lump of fabric over his ears. He kicks out and buries his head deeper. "Nuh-uh, your mum specifically said that you've gotta' come out and train with me today."

"But the weeeather."

"A little water's never hurt anyone."

Goten uncovers his head. "Maybe you should tell that to yourself. When was the last time you were even home? You smell like a locker room."

His dad drops his legs and goes to scratch at the back of his head, appearing sheepish. "I guess it's been a while. This week I was training in Deadman's Desert and that's pretty far from here. Showers are kinda' hard to come by in a desert, you know."

Goten pinches at the bridge of his nose. "Deadman's Desert…"

"It's not as bad as it sounds. I didn't see any dead people."

" _Right_ … Look, Dad, I'm not going anywhere with you until you take a bath or a shower."

His dad pouts. "Uwah… We're just gonna' get mucky again…" Goten gives him a firm look. "Uh, fine, fine. But when I'm out of the shower you've gotta' be ready to leave. Pack an overnight bag."

"What? No! That wasn't the plan!"

Dad flashes him his cheekiest grin before disappearing through the door, smell lingering. Goten groans when he hears the shower running. He wouldn't even be able to call his mum and get her to talk his dad out of it because this is supposed to be a punishment. She'd just tell Goten to suck it up and think about his previous actions. What a joke. Just to add insult to injury the teenager notices the first specks of rain flicker against the window. Dark grey looms in the backdrop.

_I'd pack waterproofs but what's the point? Dad'll just destroy them as usual._

This is why Goten doesn't have nice things. A sigh leaves him as he considers the pile of burnt and holey clothing residing in the corner of his room. Knowing he doesn't want his current outfit to become the next victim, Goten changes into one of his dad's gis. Dad's wardrobe is full of them. Orange after orange; the guy is like a cartoon character.

His dad comes into the room, laughing as he tightens his own obi around a fresh pair of gi pants.

"Still too big for you, huh?"

Goten looks in the mirror. The trousers pool around his feet.

"I'm sure you'll singe the bottoms off by the end of today anyway," Goten replies a bit unkindly.

Dad doesn't hear the tone and laughs again, thinking it as a joke. "Ha-ha, maybe. Perhaps I could ask Piccolo to make you some training clothes… I don't want you trip up on the bottom bits again."

"Oh, that sounds great. I'm sure he loves being your personal tailor."

The man scratches the back of his head, finally having the decency to look somewhat ashamed. "Bulma only sends me fifteen new gis every month now. She refuses to send anymore, what can I do?"

_Stop destroying them._

Goten doesn't say it but he really wants to. He can imagine Piccolo's consistently sour expression only worsen as his dad grovels for the namekian's handiwork. Of course, Goten doesn't have to wait too long to see such reaction because, with great enthusiasm, Goten is later presented to Piccolo. His dad's request holds awkwardly in the air as the three of them stand in a clearing of the forest.

The rain is moderately heavy now. Goten and his overnight bag are already soddened as are both his dad and Piccolo, though neither seem to mind. In fact, his dad's never looked sunnier.

"Can't he just wear yours?" Piccolo grumbles.

"That's what I said," Goten adds.

"C'mon, Piccolo, help us out here."

Piccolo sneers a monstrous sound. He eyeballs Goten with growing dislike, something not new to the teenager, and the exact reason Goten hadn't wanted to bother Piccolo with this in the first place.

"If I had _clothes_ _magic_ I'd use it all the time," his dad unhelpfully says as though it could actually persuade his friend, "I'd be making all sorts of clothes for everyone and myself."

"Goku…"

"You'd be really helping us out here, Piccolo."

Piccolo looks like he couldn't care less about helping anyone out. His green lip is pulled high, appearing as though he's currently sniffing something foul in the air.

"I'm not a damn seamstress!"

Goten folds his arms, awkward. He hates it when the two bicker. Rain pelts down uncomfortably as the little remaining light starts to be consumed by thick clouds of grey-black. By the time his dad unsurprisingly gets what he wants once again the dark night sky has fully presented itself.

It looks to physically pain Piccolo to give Goten some clothes. Energy washes over him in a sharp splash and he feels the ruffle of material sway around him. When the energy and its light fades, the orange and blue of a fresh gi can just about be seen against the darkness. This time the gi fits comfortably.

"Thanks," Goten says to the namekian just for it to go ignored.

Piccolo does offer a cutting glare at his father though, one his dad returns with a grin. Part of the teenager thinks that Dad must enjoy winding Piccolo up just so he can get a better response whilst sparring. He wouldn't put it past the man.

"Now that's dealt with I'd say that we're ready to get the show on the road."

Goten hears a rumble of thunder in the distance.

_Great timing._

His dad then powers up to Super Saiyan. The gold flash is almost too much to look at against the shadowy night. The hum of energy circulates the area as the shine of power illuminates. Goten follows suit, transforming and feeling the swirl of ki boost to the next level. It's easy for him to ascend, it's always been easy. He's never understood the emotional hurdles apparently needed to attain the power.

Dad had told him the story of Namek, and of how it took the death of his best friend for him to be able to transform into the 'legend'. It's not much of a legend considering that both he and Trunks had managed it without too much effort, though Trunks did once say that it'd been hard for Vegeta to do it.

It'd been hard for _him_ too.

Goten slaps at his cheeks, jumping on the spot. There's no point thinking about that at a time like this.

"You've gotten weaker," Piccolo then points out.

Goten frowns as the rain slaps down. "We haven't even started yet!"

"Even worse that I can sense it so easily then."

"Ugh, what's your _problem_?"

Dad is quick to intervene. He steadies Goten's rolling shoulder with a hand. "Hey, c'mon guys, let's not do this again. I'm sure Goten's been training back at Fire Mountain like he said he would, right?"

"Er…"

Piccolo snorts and the sound makes Goten see red.

"Y-Yeah, I have," the teenager snaps. His dad smiles and claps him on the back. Piccolo looks less sure, giving him a hard and long look. Those beady eyes of his narrow something ugly.

It's been like this for a while between them. Goten can't really remember when it used to be better, but he knows it must have been. Around the time of Buu, Piccolo had spent plenty of time training him and Trunks to face the monster. As stressed as the namekian had been he still hadn't been unkind to Goten, yet for the longest time now Piccolo's been short with him, quick to snap at him –even going as far to avoid being near him. Whatever Goten's done must have pissed the guy off something fierce.

Still, his dad tries to encourage these spar dates between them at any given opportunity.

"Okay, son, you can sit the first one out as Piccolo and I stretch our legs. Why don't you keep a close eye on our footwork? I noticed last time that you've gotten kinda' sloppy with it."

"Right, sure."

"Watch me, okay."

"…Okay."

And he does… for a bit. Goten takes shelter under one of the larger evergreen trees neighbouring the clearing, hating the dripping of water splashing across his forehead as it continues to shower. The hiss of weather is only broken from the sounds of energy whooshing around the grassland. Gold zips about, acting as his dad's usual chaotic but tight form, literally running circles around Piccolo as they exchange fists.

The footwork is far beyond Goten. He's always been bad at it. Anything that requires rhythm and precision involving Goten's two left feet is a lost cause. Bad dancing is a Son family trait but Goten feels like he's exceptionally bad, enough so that he's actually broken a girl's toe at a school party when he took a turn too fast. It's fair to say that Goten didn't get her number after the incident.

When a stray ki blast sets a nearby bush on fire Goten jumps.

"Are you watching, Goten?"

The teenager scratches the back of his head, a clumsy smile donning his face as his dad studies him. It's not returned.

"You're not gonna' get any better if you don't watch."

Goten doesn't care about getting better. He hates training. What's the point in all this? What, to protect the Earth? His dad is the strongest person alive. No-one is ever going to be able to even touch him.

The teenager groans, scraping his soaked back into a messy pile of tangles. "You guys are too fast for me to see."

"I told you that he's not interested, Goku," bitterly intervenes Piccolo, unwelcome. He's a bit more beat up than a short while ago. A nasty cut lip bleeds purple and even through the rain Goten can spot a sprouting bruise. "Just leave him to play on that miniature computer of his."

Goten palms the outline of his phone from within his bag out of reaction. His dad notices and so his frown pulls tighter.

"You know, Goten, I do think you spend too much time on that thing. You're gonna' make your muscles turn to jelly if you're not careful."

Goten turns away, trying his upmost best not to roll his eyes. Piccolo would throw him through a mountain if he saw.

"I haven't even touched it out here. I've been watching like you asked." Piccolo clicks his tongue, and his dad looks equally as uncertain – which annoys Goten to no end because it _is_ the truth. "I _haven't_!"

"Er, whatever you say..." Sheepish, Dad scratches at the back of his head. His awkward nature does eventually placate Goten, especially when the big goof gives him that lopsided grin of his. Jeez, talk about making a guy feel guilty.

A hand reaches towards Goten. "Say, why don't you come and show me what you've got then?"

Equally awkward, Goten offers a small smile and takes the upturned palm. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap or whate –you know what, sure. Okay, let's do this."

Good thing Goten is still transformed because his dad gives him zero breathing room. From the moment he takes that hand the teenager is whisked from the comfort of his shelter and into the brutality of the storm. There's a roar of thunder as Goten dodges his dad's first strike, his typical starting move of punching Goten in the gut. It's always performed in dutiful expectation because when Goten had been really little it'd always been the thing to send him down. But it's different now. He grabs a hold of his dad's stretched arm and pulls _hard._ The saiyan falters but doesn't fall down, instead twisting and planting his boot into Goten's calf. It's another testing move because his dad knows how terribly he performs after taking a knock to the leg. With already bad footwork it only worsens.

"Crap!"

Goten swears he hears his dad laugh but he's too focused on not taking a second hit to be sure. By the time the teenager notices his father's goofy face grinning away he's already weaving between punches. One clips him in the shoulder, knocking him askew in the line of attack. His dad is quick to react. His leg furies forward and Goten is swept from under his feet, plummeting to the ground and into a pool of wet dirt.

His dad goes to pull him up. "Wake up, wake up! Get your head in the game!"

Goten's now completely covered in mud. It's like tar from the rain, suctioning his bottom back down as he's _dragged_ back into the fight. When Goten goes to swipe at the pelting rain he ends up smearing a long line of filth across his face. Dad doesn't even give him the chance to clean it off, to remove the streak of brown from his vision; he punches Goten so hard in the gut that the teenager buckles over. His hands are curled around his middle when his dad lands another blow to the torso.

Goten is launched upwards this time. The sky catches him with its harsh and wet embrace as a crack of lightning whitens the clearing. Just as a second flash assaults his vision Goten is yet again struck by his dad's flurry of fists. It's only seconds later that Goten tastes the dirt once more.

_I hate this._

Hues of blues and greys shine from his dad's approaching face, if only from the harsh reflection of wet glued to his cheeks. He's muddy too, but nothing compared to Goten. The man doesn't look best impressed with the teenager's display.

_I really hate this._

"You can do better than this, son."

God, he sounds so disappointed. Goten flops his head down. Dirt splatters.

"Send him back to the house," Piccolo comments from nearby. "He's clearly not interested in training."

"C'mon, get up, Goten."

Goten contemplates how he ended up in this situation and if the chalk drawing of his teacher had really been worth it after all. When Dad forces him up yet again Goten decides that it unquestionably hadn't been, especially when, after who knows how long, he still hasn't managed to land a single blow.

"Focus!" his dad orders, but Goten's struggling now.

His head pounds from taking too many hits and his ribs are in absolute agony. He spirals when his dad roundhouses his cheek. The stretch of pain is followed by angry throbs and the taste of budding metallic.

Goten spits and wipes at his lips, shaky. The rain is hot and thick, feeling like lava against fresh wounds.

"The kid's done," Piccolo calls from the side lines. He's been doing it ever since their spar had begun.

"I'm fine!" Goten insists.

His dad clearly agrees with Goten because before he knows it, he's knocked free from his feet once more and into the sharp edge of a neighbouring boulder. When he screams, more from the shock than the pain, his dad sees the opportunity and several ki blasts are sent his way. Goten dodges the first few but ends up taking some nasty burns from the latter ones. They sting, and even in the dimness of night Goten can see his skin bubble an immediate red under the flare of Super Saiyan.

The teenager gets a second wind and bends under the oncoming fist. The meld of yellow glow between them becomes blinding, making Goten work sightless as he stumbles away from his father.

"You gotta' advance! Don't show weakness!"

But Goten can't find an opening, he can barely see straight –the weather is against him, and the rapid beating in his chest from the adrenaline of it all is starting to make him feel woozy.

"Goku! He's done!"

No he's not! Just to spite the asshole, Goten flies forward and swings hard, and true if his dad's damning grunt is anything to go by.

"That's more like it," his dad then praises.

Goten tries to withhold his smile, feeling proud. It's wiped off quickly as his dad's fist connects with his lower jaw. His head then pivots dramatically, body following, just before he strikes down into the ground with ferocity. A crater forms around him, and if not for the rain then he's sure he'd be able to see a cloud of dust circling overhead.

Okay… Goten hurts. He hurts pretty badly now.

This doesn't seem to stop his dad however. His golden aura positively dances in the delight of his son's misfortune; pulsing majestically as it draws ever closer to his resting spot. Knowing what's coming next, Goten flinches and balls up. His knees knock against his chin and he attempts his best block.

"Goku, knock it off!"

There's no deterrent strong enough to pry his dad away from a fight. Goten can only hope that it doesn't hurt too much.

"Hyahh!" cries Dad; a war cry.

A ball of blue pistons from his hands and soars in the teenager's direction. It's so fast that Goten isn't sure that it even flew to begin with, instead choosing to teleport directly in front of him before exploding.

The searing of skin makes Goten grit his teeth. He refuses to cry, no way, not this time. The light carries out over his body and he feels his arms in particular blister. His block is weak, he knows that, but he didn't expect the attack to be _so_ heated. There's a rush of ki from him as he tries to push back. Yet, the _thing_ has got one more kick to it with one last burst of energy ripping from the sender.

Goten manages to power through the onslaught. It endures to pierce through his defence in some places, but otherwise the teenager wards the bulk of it off with an impressive display of stubbornness.

He breathes hollowly as he watches the rejected ki rocket into the sky, the rain short of blinding him.

"Real good," his dad praises once again. He hovers above Goten with a warm smile, one which Goten offers back tenfold.

"Let's stop here," Piccolo speaks. Is it Goten or does he sound relieved? "Let's make camp."

Actually, Goten agrees with him. He's very much done after that attack. His bones ache and his battered head is ready to explode itself. So it's at that point then that his father's next words send a shock of cold nausea to his stomach.

"Huh? What? No way. We're just getting started! Get your butt up!"

"Goku!"

He's whirled up by his arm. _God, no._

When released, then teenager stumbles until he manages to regain his terrible footing. The slippery mud beneath slickly tests his awful boot grips. It's not an understatement to say that he's dizzy as hell, so dizzy that he's looking at two of his dads wobbling around.

"Are you ready?"

"I –uh-"

It doesn't matter. His dad charges, fist high –knee higher as it clips at Goten's already bludgeoned shoulder. Strike after strike follows and Goten dodges next to none of them. Yet again he can't seem to land a single blow against his father. When he tangles his feet together in a nest of nettles, he falls both against the man and against a tirade of jabs.

There's a hoarse cry. "Gok-"

Goten doesn't hear much more. He takes a hard whack to his temple, making the world fuzzy. Sound distorts with crackles, and Goten can't make out what are the fresh lines of lightning and what's the streaking colour his brain's setting out. They merge together chaotically.

He takes another punch to the face, and then another, and another.

His dad's eyes are hyper focused. They pierce into his own, so intently that he can't bear to look at them a moment longer. It hurts to look, it hurts to feel. The only thing he starts to feel besides the pain is a sudden rush of fear.

_He's going to kill me._

There's another punch.

_I'm going to die!_

The next rattles his head.

_Please-_

Then—there's no more.

Goten holds his breath, daring to turn back. The next fist is only inches away from his face. There it's held in the iron-like grip of Piccolo's hand, shaking as it still steams with unburned energy.

"That's enough, Goku," Piccolo says, voice low, threatening.

Goten's mouth feels dry despite the copious amount of blood filling it. There's nothing he could ever say to make any difference, especially when his dad's face looks like _that_. It's strewn tight with rigid determination, determination to land that next punch. He looks to want it more than anything he's ever wanted before.

"That's _enough_."

Finally, his dad speaks. "He's fine. Let go, Piccolo."

Piccolo growls, clenching harder. Those pointed nails of his pierce skin. "Fine? _Fine_? Look at him, Goku. He's a mess!"

The only sign of movement is the spell of rain between the three of them, although Goten can see his father's itch for movement. The man can't stay still for a second. The vibrations from his insistent fist say otherwise.

"Let go, Piccolo."

"He's done, finished!"

"He's fine! Stop panicking!"

"He can't do this!"

"Yes, he can!"

"No, he can't, Goku!" Piccolo twists the hand backwards, forcing his dad to fall with it. "You continue this and you're going to kill him!"

His dad pushes forward, a cold swill of anger bubbling deep within those icy eyes of his. Goten hates that look. He's only seen it a handful of times but it's enough to make him wish he'd been born blind.

"I know his limits."

"You don't even know your own limits, never mind his!"

His dad doesn't like this. Uncharacteristically heated, he clenches his fists and aims a particularly nasty look at his supposed friend. "We're _not_ going over this again. We're not doing this with Goten here."

Piccolo spares the teenager a look, grunting.

"We're finished for tonight, Goten. Grab your stuff. You're going home."

Goten goes to nod. He likes that idea very much actually. It's only when there's a grasping at his arm does he feel something in his stomach sink.

"We're not done," Dad says. "I know you've got more in you yet, son."

Panic runs through Goten. The nausea doubles, his vision wavers –he wants to be sick.

And then a hand slaps his dad's away. Piccolo appears furious.

"Knock it off, Goku," he snaps, "he can't do this, he doesn't want to. You need to understand that he's not as strong as you believe him to be. Goten is _not_ a fighter. He's not that way inclined. He just doesn't have the strength." It's not nice listening but it's true, Goten admits it.

However, the next bit stings.

"He's not Gohan."

Silence follows. It's silent for so long that Goten doesn't know what to expect next. It hurts, of course. It hurts in a variety of ways, but Goten's too hung up on whether or not his dad is about to explode to care.

Nothing of the sort comes. Instead, his dad quietly powers down. The gold fades, making the world appear even darker than it feels. Goten hadn't noticed but he'd long fallen out of Super Saiyan. The dour rain continues to fall as the thunder shouts and screams for them, especially for Goten who feels as if he wants to hurl the worst swear words he knows into his pillow at home.

"Goten…" his dad attempts. It's quick to die on his tongue. "I…"

It's silent once again.

"Go home, kid," Piccolo next instructs when the emptiness draws on too long. "You're done here."

Goten looks back towards his dad for a sign of something, anything. He doesn't know what he wants to hear from Dad but he just knows that he needs to hear something.

The only thing Goten hears, however, is the hush of rainfall.

* * *


	6. Apathy

The next few days follow a similar routine to Gohan's first. He wakes early, talks with Doctor Hezk about his childhood, is beaten up by Rixas, peruses the book collection in Mori's room, and then eats either by himself or with Rixas in said room. All in all, he could be having a worse time. The bed is comfortable and the food is admittedly excellent. He might just return to Earth three times wider than when he'd left, although he strangely hasn't regained his full appetite. Rixas, cheeks stuffed like a hamster, had told him that the crops grown in this realm harness more than usual nutrients in order to feed higher beings.

"I'm surprised you can eat as much as you can in a mortal body," he'd said one night, "though, it's probably because you're a saiyan. I'd once heard of a saiyan eating a God Apple in the pits of Hell some years ago… I wonder what it did to him…"

When it marks the three week point since Gohan's disappearance from Earth and progression feels to have hit a frustrating standstill, the teenager complains to Doctor Hezk during one of their sessions.

"Progress takes time," she cryptically says just with a touch of sympathy.

"I feel like all we've done is talk about my childhood. Really, you could probably write a book about me at this point."

Doctor Hezk giggles, and Gohan does too. They'd become friendlier over the couple weeks. No longer is the doctor nervous in his company, often engaging in small talk or explaining the details of the realm to him. She'd also shown him how to fasten a robe after Rixas had collapsed from laughter when Gohan had asked him. After that, she'd rummaged through his cupboards and explained how to wear the variety of cloaks and robes hanging there.

Today she'd gone through the method on how they record time so he can learn to say how old he is. Apparently it's measured by how long it takes for two of their moons pass each other in orbit. Gohan worked it out that it's about three of their years to every one Earth year, or something of wobbly equivalence. Going by this maths, Gohan would be around fifty-one or fifty-two in age. Doctor Hezk admitted to being eighty-three.

"And how old was Mori?"

"At death?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm… Thirty-three I think."

Gohan tilts his head. "So young."

Doctor Hezk nods in agreement. "Yes, it's rather young for a god. Lord Rixas is around about eighty-seven now, and Lord Quell is just under two-hundred-and-seventy-nine –which is still considered young."

He splutters. "Young? The teenager can't quite contain his jaw from dropping. "Quell doesn't even look half that age!"

She chuckles, closing her notebook and leaning back into the sofa. "Of course not. Gods don't age like mortals, and since when do you hear of mortals living into their millions?"

"…Millions?"

Thin brows raise and she nods.

_Huh? …What?_

"Wait," he breathes, looming forward dramatically. "Are you telling me that you mean…" His voice wilts and he hopes she catches his meaning. She does.

Her hands clasp together. "Oh! Wait! You thought I meant that he was only thir—no, Gohan, Lord Mori was thirty-three- _million_ years old."

"Uwaaah! And Rixas—he's that old too? B-But, he's like a kid! In his head he's basically a child!"

Doctor Hezk is really laughing now, hiding her giggles behind the leathery spine of her notebook. Aghast, Gohan watches on as he lets the information sink in.

"Gohan, these are _gods_ , what did you expect?"

His eyes balloon. "I don't know! My brain can't even comprehend that much time!"

It's something Gohan plans to bring up with Rixas later just out of the sheer curiosity of it. Being so impossibly old doesn't at all suit the guy, what with having the mental state of a golden retriever, one always sprinting in circles for his toys, except the toy isn't a ball or a bone but instead an overexerted Gohan after being battered about for a week straight. Even his dad doesn't push him this much. Really, if the hyperactive god isn't careful then he's going to break Gohan for good. No amount of medical aid or strange syrupy medicine they have (tastes like kiwi) will be able to do the teenager a world of good if he ends up dead.

As Doctor Hezk opens her book to the back page Gohan knows that he's in trouble. This can only mean that it's now time for the physical activities of their sessions: meditation. In the past he'd always been comfortable doing it, particularly with Piccolo out in the green stretches of the forests or perhaps under the rush of a waterfall. The white noise always helped him concentrate, something he'd told Doctor Hezk a couple days back just as an off comment, but she must have taken it in because on today's visit she's brought along a speaker. The crackles of static fill the vacancy between them and the teenager is reminded of rain thumping down on a car roof. If he didn't have to meditate he'd consider it soothing. He, however, does.

Again, it's not the meditation itself that's the problem but rather what the doctor hopes to achieve through the attempts.

"We're going to try and push through that boundary today, Gohan," she says.

" _Boundary_ " is what she likes to say when she means to explore further than Gohan's memories, to explore past the things that make him _him_. He doesn't see the point because there really isn't anything beyond his own identity or consciousness. What she expects to discover is beyond him –there's only Gohan knocking around in his head. He thinks he'd know otherwise, thanks!

Still, Gohan knows to be polite. "Okay, sure. Want me to sit on the floor again?"

"Wherever you're comfortable," Doctor Hezk replies, looking ever more amused as he reduces himself down to the floor and into a cross-legged position. She'd seem so tickled the first time he'd done it too. Gohan guesses that it's not in Lord Mori's personality to be so casual –that the contrast is something that might turn heads.

"Yeah, floor is good. Floor is fine."

"If you say so…" But she's smiling all the same as she trails her finger down the page. "Okay, let's see where we got to last time. Hmm… Ah, here. We stopped because," she sighs, "because you fell asleep. That's right, I remember now."

"I said I was sorry! I just think your voice is really relaxing! I didn't mean to-"

"Mm-hmm."

Gohan's face warms in embarrassment. That hum is the doctor's way of showing her frustration, her protest without chiding him in the way he's sure she would if he was just any other patient. Even if her nervousness seems to have faded, Gohan can still feel that he's been placed upon a pedestal of some kind.

Regardless, he feels bad. "I'm sorry."

Doctor Hezk turns up the white noise. "Are you ready?"

He shuffles into an upright position. "I am."

"And no falling asleep this time?"

"No, I'll be good."

"Okay, close your eyes," her voice has now adopted a softer approach. It's wispy and almost musical in how she delivers her syllables. Her whispers are barely audible over the hush of white noise, and he really has to focus on what she's saying to hear her right. "I want you to find your comfortable place, the place where you feel lightness and spiritual buoyancy in which you really disconnect from this world and any. Tell me when you reach that place."

Gohan's done this several times with her now so he knows what she wants him to do. Piccolo long ago taught him how to reach his centre. It takes a special kind of tranquillity within oneself to do it, and whilst it's been difficult to do it in troubling circumstances such as these, Gohan's proudly managed it.

Anxious or not, he finds that place within himself and tells the doctor so.

"So now just let yourself relax into that mental space for a little while. Take a moment to be truly comfortable."

Then, something tickles under Gohan's nose. Does he smell lavender?

She must have noticed his expression because she talks again, still using that whimsical tone. "I'm burning a serenity candle. It'll help to keep you calm and focused."

For lavender it smells remarkably strong. There's nothing subtle about the perfume whatsoever, taking a hold of his senses and wracking them with its sweetness as it weaves through his nostrils and straight to his head.

"It-It's pretty strong."

"Deep breaths now, Gohan."

When he does as asked he realises how wrong he'd been to do so. His chest fills and his head spins. That tranquil place deep within spirals on its axis, twisting and turning unnaturally as it swings Gohan along for the ride. Another breath is taken, and then another, just because he doesn't know what else to do when his eyes refuse to open.

Colours dance sultrily around in the darkness as the lavender breathes life into his own personal rainbow.

"What is that stuff?" he tries to demand. Instead, his words are lethargic.

"This time we're not going to talk about your childhood or your victories in battle," she goes on to say, ignoring him, "I just want you to remember something personal. However small it is it doesn't matter, only that it means something to you."

The memories fly at him quicker than usual, vastly so. Over the last week Gohan's not struggled per say, but not really dug as deep as he could have to seek the required answers. Now, the answers seek him. A swam of personal and highly moving feelings batter him in an array of colours. The purples beat at his back, the blues his front, and the orange, solo in its venture, dives towards his face.

He grasps that one because of its boldness, because deep down Gohan's sure that this is the memory that means the most to him.

When he sees it play out, Gohan's only more confused. There's no luxury of place, weather or a setting. He only sees the simplicity of one thing: the back of his dad's gi. He watches it as it grows smaller with distance. It's moving away from him, the Turtle insignia growing miniscule as it shrinks and shrinks into obscurity. His hand reaches out on instinct; his legs try to move only for him to discover that they're now made from cement, when he shouts there's not a sound that comes out. Gohan's stuck there, alone, as the back of his father becomes a pinprick memory against the fade of black.

"Do you have one?" comes her voice.

His mouth betrays him, slurring. "My dad-"

"Shh, don't say it. Just feel it."

He does. He really feels it.

"I don't like this-"

"Why? What emotions are you experiencing?"

"I –I…" _I don't know._

The orange isn't bright anymore, but now a dull amber that steals all the light. Gohan watches as the black swallows the dot, the light, and then at how it snaps at any lingering positivity that might still reside within.

His chest is heavy.

"Gohan?"

"Frustrated," he finally admits. It's the only word he can think of which best describes how he feels, and then; "tired, sick… I-I feel…"

_I just hurt._

"Gohan?"

"I don't know."

_Yes, I do._

The weight pulls him free from his place of serenity, the lavender making his nose dry, the white noise screaming so loud that he's really sure that he might actually be next to his and Piccolo's waterfall. It's all too much. The lavender is too much.

" _Daddy!"_

That was his voice; it feels like it'd just ripped from his chest. The rip tears downwards and it's as if Gohan's falling with the rip, bouncing between the uneven stitches of his emotions, flittering between hot and cold. Other memories now join. There's Cell and Buu, there's the saiyans; an uncomfortable image which includes a much younger Vegeta. His sneers makes Gohan want to turn and run straight for his old mentor.

It's a flipbook of memories. People of varying importance cameo dizzily as Gohan tries to regain himself, and then…

A curtain of blond; it falls like silk as it draws closer. Golden eyes peer from behind the veil under dark lashes, glowing dangerously as the mouth below silently speaks to him. Whatever is being said must be menacing if only due to the slick delicacy it's being said with. A shiver runs down his spine when those eyes finally connect with his own.

_They're mine._

It's a mirror.

Winded, Gohan splutters from the shock of it. It's too much. It's now _definitely_ too much; his chest hurts. He jolts forward hard, finally free from the hold of the lavender and free from the image of gold. The room is hazy now, most likely from the candle, and he can see the doctor's concerned expression from behind her facemask.

"Gohan!" she calls out. Her hands reach his upper arms and she shakes him gently. "What did you see? Was it a memory?"

He rubs at his throat, coughing, and suddenly furious. "What is that stuff?!"

There's something sheepish about how she looks up at him. "It's herbal, don't worry. I didn't do anything ba-"

Gohan recoils from her. "Did you drug me?!"

"You finally broke through," she defends, still on her own personal high of witnessing the fruits of her labour. "We're getting closer to unearthing some truth. Isn't that exciting, Gohan?"

His mouth parts as he considers the way her face lights up. It's disgusting. He's disgusted. She'd _drugged_ him.

Unable to stand the stillness, Gohan stands, albeit a bit wobbly, and gestures towards the door. "I want you to leave… please."

"…Gohan..."

" _Go_ , now…" His forehead creases in tight folds as he finds himself too frustrated to even look at her. "Please just… I'm pretty angry."

Doctor Hezk looks remarkably torn, which annoys Gohan further because he knows it's her curiosity which still guides her, leading her down a path complicit in making him want to blow the entire estate up. How dare she just… give him drugs? Who does that?

"Leave!" he orders, and she jumps up from the sofa right away.

Gohan silently watches her collect her belongings, including that burnt out candle he wants to launch through the window and into the forest.

Before she reaches the door she offers a low bow. "My apologies, my lord."

Gohan's so annoyed that he doesn't bother correcting her. The door pulls closed and he sinks back down to the sofa.

That face from the memory makes him feel queasy.

_So gold…_

* * *

For once, sparring comes at a good time for him. No more does Rixas collect him from his room like a child minder, instead choosing to meet him on the grassy plain by the river that they've grown fond of. The purple of the sky appears to have soured to a dour greyish-lilac and the trickles of rain pinprick the skin coolly as Gohan makes his way across the grounds. No other people come out this way which is why he suspects Rixas chose this area in the first place, especially considering he's now mentioned on multiple occasions that he likes to train in the courtyard more so than anywhere else.

Gohan's a bit later than usual and so Rixas is already about half way into his stretching routine by the time the teenager gets there.

The bounce of blond bobs up. "Oh, you're pissed. What happened?"

"N-Nothing."

Rixas shakes his head and lowers to stretch out his hamstring. "It's all over your face but if you don't wanna' talk about it I won't force you."

"Right."

"But being in a bad mood won't help you with your terrible form."

Gohan ignores the jab, gritting his teeth.

"Maybe you could give my form a try toda-"

He clicks is tongue, and then with a sharp tone, the teenager interrupts; "can we just do this?"

Peering up, Rixas coos at him; a long high-pitched sound which tests Gohan not to throttle him.

"Fine," the teenager sulks as he turns a shoulder, "I'll just go back to my ro-"

"Mori!" he then calls, laughing at Gohan's misfortune and making the latter feel even more irritated, "don't be like that, come on, I'm just playing."

"I don't want to play," Gohan then insists, "I just want to go home and all of you are stopping me! I want to go back to my family, I want to see my friends, my _girlfriend_ , and yet three weeks have passed by with nothing to show for it!"

Rixas crosses his arms and surveys Gohan's budding rage.

So Gohan continues, the heat churning as his frustration starts to spill out of him. "All this time we've done nothing but spar –well, more like you beating me up, all the while my family are back home on Earth worrying about me. Yet you don't even let me contact them! None of you let me contact them! I just want to talk to my da-"

"It's not _me_ ," Rixas interrupts, "I'm not stopping you from doing anything."

"Th-Then help me!" he splutters, exasperated.

Rixas quirks a smile and shrugs his shoulder. "Sorry, no can do. I said it's not _me_ stopping you. Rather, I should've said that Quell is the one keeping you grounded here. He's the boss so I've gotta' comply. You know, only limited people can have access to you until you stop being a potato."

"Ugh. Stop saying that!"

"Lighten up," he continues. "You're not a prisoner-"

But Gohan disagrees. "That's exactly what I am."

The god laughs, tilting his head back to expose the sharp glint of gold from his eyes. "Oh yeah? Then you're not trying very hard to break out. Earth can't be that special to ya if you're brunching with me every morning."

The teenager's fists clench. "I'm _trying_ to cooperate."

There's a click of the tongue from the blond. "Is that what you think? You've not tried at all, Mori."

" _Gohan,"_ Gohan seethes because the fire in his stomach is starting to spit, starting to rile him up. "My name is Gohan, and I _am_ trying."

One second has Rixas several feet away from him and the next has him so close in front of the teenager that Gohan nearly tumbles over from the surprise of it. He's tall; Rixas, looming over Gohan by several inches and posing an intimidating aura without the effort of really trying. Even with his placid smile, Rixas sends a vibration of nerves through Gohan.

Rows of pearly white teeth shine back as he speaks in his low tones. "You aren't trying. You've not been able to touch me all week, and I don't think it's for a lack of power because I can sense that you've got a bit about you –pretty good considering your mortal body- yet…" He sighs. "I don't think you're interested in giving me a good fight at all…"

"I'm not," Gohan replies, eyes thinning, "I just wa-"

Rixas pushes him and the teenager falls flat against the grass, bottom throbbing.

"You wanna' go home? Fine. If you beat me then I'll help you. In fact, I'll take you there myself. How does that sound?"

From the ground, Gohan glares. "You're lying. There's no point in fighting. I'm outmatched, severely so."

Rixas laughs. "What a lousy attitude, little brother." He then steps over the teenager's fallen form as if avoiding a pile of mess, as if Gohan is just an obstacle between him and the pathway. Collecting his bag in a smooth swoop, he turns and spares Gohan a look over his shoulder. "I don't feel like fighting today. I feel kinda' put off. When you feel like putting in a bit of effort then you can find me in the courtyard."

And for the second time that day, Gohan's left alone to boil from the inside. Time passes as he sits upon the grassy plain, and it takes a while for him to collect himself. His thoughts are tainted with bubbling annoyance, everything looks moodier to him now, and he's filling with quick resentment. This isn't him, but this is what this place is doing to him.

_So it's Quell who's stopping me contacting my family…_

It's not a reassuring thought. Gohan hasn't encountered the guy at all since coming to the estate, daring only to wander around the quarters assigned to him and in the grounds close to the river. In reality, the grounds run long and immeasurably into the distance. All Gohan knows is that there's a courtyard there, one where Rixas is probably training right now.

 _Rixas_ …

Gohan scowls. It just scorches him to think about the guy. During Gohan's time here it wouldn't have been a stretch to say that he'd been growing fond of the god, enjoying his company –well, until the idiot would take it too far just like he'd done today.

He kicks an offending pebble into the shrubbery.

"I _have_ been trying," he complains, "even though all this is stupid." It sounds like something Goten would say and Gohan feels a little embarrassed with the snotty nature of it. "I'm no god," he then proceeds to tell a neighbouring tree, "why aren't they listening to me?"

The foliage offers little in response and so Gohan just sighs. The surrounding forest, whilst an excellent listener, seems not to have an answer for the teenager, giving him little reason in wanting to hover around. So he walks, and walks, exploring the different clearings, and passing old and unused buildings resembling the quaint builds one can spot in a history book back on Earth. And with being back on the subject of Earth Gohan starts to feel depressed once again. The sullen stroll leads him back to the estate about an hour or so later, but it's at an opposing side to where he usually comes out, nowhere near his quarters but instead nearing a grand entrance Gohan assumes to be a centre exit.

He approaches it if just a little warily, praying that the intensity of Quell's aura doesn't suddenly appear; that would be disastrous. Really, only so much can go wrong in one day. Thankfully no such pressure appears and Gohan's left to it as he passes through the well-kept gardens leading up to a grand set of doors. Centre stage sits a fountain, one large and round, home to the polka dots of lily pads, and extravagantly gaudy enough to look at home in Mister Satan's mansion. With the path circling around it Gohan has to follow, and he traces his fingertips across the stone wall of the fountain as he passes. The water sitting on the surface offers a troubling reflection behind its ripples, one where those eyes stare back, golden and not at all his.

_Mori's eyes…_

They blaze just like Rixas' eyes. No wonder he'd recognized Gohan's frustration; the manic glow burns impossibly hot, signalling radiant distress which is only highlighted by the fierce pinching of brows. For a second Gohan can barely recognize himself.

He recalls that vision, the horrid thing born from drug use –God, what would his parents say if they knew? Drugs, him? No, never.

Still, the effect was apparent. He can remember what he saw clear as day.

_Golden eyes peer from behind the veil under dark lashes, glowing dangerously as the mouth below silently speaks to him._

He splashes at the water. The gold blurs and he stalks off in the direction of the doors. The teenager dares not to think of it again, trying to focus on his goal of surviving his time here and not getting too wrapped up in all the nonsense. Before long, he'll be back home on Earth and back to studying for college and back to spending time with his dad out in the mountains, sparring between the rare but equally enjoyable fishing breaks.

It's not fair. He'd just gotten his dad back only a few short months ago and now _this_ happens. It's like the two are destined not to ever be together. Gohan groans into the crook of his hands, really working himself up, as he takes steps towards the doors. Just why should they expect him to put his all into it? Gohan is _not_ Mori. Gohan is just some kid from Earth who wants to go back and hang out with his dad without having to panic about some danger on the horizon.

As Gohan reaches for the door handle he stops, hearing two voices from the other side.

"Another lie from you once again," says one voice, heated in its muffle.

"I have not lied to you, my lo-"

"Three more Zealites were spotted on the grounds just this week. How you continue to look me in the face and _lie_ only strengthens my belief of your inadequacy."

"We have _nothing_ to do with that organization."

There's a bout of silence until a whirlwind of noise follows. "Don't think you can deceive me! You think I will accept this disrespect, this daring, lying down? The Zealites took one from me and they shan't take another, not again!"

"My lord-"

"I'm warning you –all of you- that if I manage to secure one of these persons then I'll make their existence full of displeasure, and then I'll find their sponsors and bring a world of ruin to them too."

"We have had problems with this organization ourselves. They've infil-"

The teenager moves away, not liking where any of this is going. Knowing that it's not his place to eavesdrop, he takes a step backwards onto the steps. However, he miscalculates the step, causing him to stumble forwards against the door. He doesn't mean to but Gohan slams the door ajar with an almighty _clang_. It shakes the opposing walls, making the sound ricochet past the entry way and down into the depths of the estate.

_Uh, I hope no-one heard that._

And because today really hasn't proved to be going in Gohan's favour, he finds that that hope is thrown right back into his face and that he's just walked into the fray of an on-going conversation. The participants look up in surprise, one the face of an individual resembling a kai and the other; Quell.

Gohan gulps and immediately traces his steps backwards, but it's too late. Quell's intense pressure has the teenager still his legs, cementing him to the ground as both onlookers watch him with their questioning gazes.

"I suppose we'll end this here then," says the kai (?) somewhat curtly.

Quell doesn't take his eyes off of Gohan. The gold is shriller than ever, harsher than Rixas' could ever dream to be.

"Yes," Quell finally replies with equal sharpness.

There's a short bow from the kai to Quell, one unacknowledged with the latter too occupied with staring Gohan down. The kai then makes moves to slink past the both of them, eyeing Gohan with an unrecognizable flash of emotion across the face as he goes. Gohan wants to follow, to chase him through the doors, but finds himself still glued down. Quell's energy steals his will.

It's been a short while since Gohan has seen the man, yet the discomfort still resides strongly within. At the Spire, Quell's presence had not only made the teenager uncomfortable but the entire population of the hospital too. Perhaps it's a strange magic tied to the god, or maybe it's how he uses his ki (which is strange because Gohan still can't sense it); he doesn't know, but he does know that the weight nauseates him. It nauseates him so much that he wishes he could just fall unconscious where he stands and deal with very little of it.

Quell's upturned lip stresses into an even fouler grimace. "Your mortal form disgusts me, Mori."

Gohan balks. He's not a model or anything but no-one has ever called him ugly to his face. Then he realises that Quell isn't talking about his appearance because apparently Mori and Gohan do share similar features. Does Gohan's hair bother the guy? Surely it's more than that.

"When you denounce your mortality then you'll be more palatable to be around," Quell continues. His hair falls in graceful waves, blond against white, and he takes a step towards the teenager. "Until then I don't want you nearing my quarters again. Should I see you here once more then I'll chain you to your chamber, do you understand?"

It takes Gohan a long second to realise that it's not a hypothetical question and that an answer is expected. When he meets Quell's eyes all he can do is nod. Words become too much for him.

_Th-This pressure… I think I'm going to be sick._

A gloved hand reaches out and drags Gohan's hunching form upright. Quell isn't too much taller than him but he feels mountains high.

Those icy eyelashes flutter, and with a whisper; "now go."

And Gohan does, urged by the pressure. He makes it out with unsteady legs, quavering for ten minutes until he can't take anymore. When given the opportunity, he throws up into the closest bush at hand.

* * *

It's not until an hour later and safe back in his chamber does Gohan think it wise to take up Doctor Jivel's offer to call him. The computer is easy enough to use, much simpler than the devices back on Earth. With voice command it's a slick process which helps him achieve what he needs to do. Lanit-Tongue with its cursive design does show up on a regular basis, but it's not such a demanding presence that it misleads him into doing something he shouldn't.

When Gohan speaks Doctor Jivel's name into the mic, a small dot on the front of the screen, an information box pops up. He remembers to repeat the name again and say yes. Then, an animation appears; signalling that the call has been made and all Gohan can do is wait.

"Lord Mori," greets a voice from the speakers. A video feed follows up on the computer of the doctor. He's in uniform and in an undisclosed office somewhere presumably in the Spire.

"Doctor Jivel," Gohan breathes. He's genuinely happy to see the man. After being stuck in this madhouse for a week it's finally nice to see a friendly face. "I didn't disrupt you did I?"

The doctor, amused, shakes his head. He looks tired but otherwise not too run off his feet. "Just some paperwork today, luckily. I've had to sign off on some of Doctor Hezk's work."

Gohan frowns. "Oh, so you've spoken to her?"

"I have."

"Today?"

"Today; an hour ago, in fact."

Awkwardly, the teenager takes a seat in Mori's computer chair. It's as comfortable and plush as the bed itself. "So… er," he coughs, "did she tell you about what happened today?"

Doctor Jivel strokes at his chin with a knowing smile. "She did."

"And?"

"And what, sir?"

The doctor's playing dumb, clearly wanting Gohan to elaborate his own twist on the story. But Gohan wants to hear what Doctor Jivel has to say first before he makes an idiot out of himself. He'd gotten angry, furiously so, at Doctor Hezk this morning after she'd drugged him. That kind of anger is rare in him these days, and so it makes him feel all the more silly despite knowing that she'd been in the wrong.

"Doctor," Gohan says, staring into the camera with a heavy expression, "you know why I'm angry. Please don't play games. This is all they do here at the estate and I'm just no good at it."

Doctor Jivel hums knowingly, leaning back in his own chair. "You're out of your comfort zone, aren't you, Gohan?"

"Yes." Very, very much so. "It's like they have the inability to be straight forward, like-"

"Like you're speaking a different language?"

" _Yes_. Rixas always seems like he wants something more from me, like he's waiting for Mori to suddenly appear in a cloud of smoke. Even when he thinks I'm not looking I notice. He keeps calling me 'little brother' as though 'Mori' isn't bad enough, and insisting I spar with him daily."

"Interesting. And you're able to keep up?"

The teenager leans forward. " _No_ , I'm not! He's a god, doctor! I can't quite possibly match him. He's a machine!"

"Understandable," he responds levelly. It's not at all the reaction Gohan wanted from him. He should be spitting that Rixas has dragged him out to fight, especially considering that Gohan's still not in top form.

Gohan's brow furrows. "And _today_ … He… I mean, he has no right to be annoyed with me. He's the one who keeps spouting such rude things!"

"You had words?"

"More like he stormed off like some kid." Gohan's cheeks tinge because that's not the entire truth. Guilt gets the better of him and so he adds, "he'd said I hadn't been trying."

"With sparring?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. I guess."

"Hmm." There's quite a break of silence from the doctor, one which causes Gohan to tear his eyes away from his shoes and back up to the screen, to where he sees the doctor study him with a keen eye. "Perhaps he's referring to something else. Have you thought that?"

Gohan jolts, the frustration quick to return. "Like what?"

"Well, let's go back to today's meeting with Doctor Hezk. She'd been quite shaken after your session this morning-"

No, he won't stand for this. Gohan hits a fist against his table. "She _drugged_ me."

"A serenity candle is little different from your basic herbs, Gohan," he downplays, making him feel even more frustrated. Before Gohan gets a word in the doctor continues. "I've used far more potent drugs and vaccines for a common cold than one of those old things. Don't look at me like that. I'm not saying that she should have done it without consulting either me or Lord Quell, and I've written her up on that, but it's hardly anything to throw a fuss over. And really, Gohan, what choice have you given her in the end?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Okay now, I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to be as honest as possible here, alright?"

Gohan shuffles upright in the chair. "Right…"

"Have you really been giving this your all?"

"My… all?"

He puts it into different words. "Have you really tried recounting Lord Mori's memories, have you tried engaging seriously with Lord Rixas, have you really tried your best to search for the truth?"

Gohan sucks in a gust of air. He _knows_ the truth. This entire thing is a mistake and so he tells the doctor.

"And what if it's not, Gohan?" pushes Doctor Jivel snappily, "and what if you're standing in the way of what needs uncovering, of justice?"

"It's just not possible," he tries, but the doctor's expression only darkens.

"Lord Mori's body was found by Lord Quell in the very spot in which you sit right now. Murdered."

A cold dread runs down Gohan's spine as the image of the doctor stares him down. Suddenly very self-conscious, the teenager peers around the space, trying to imagine the crumpled form of the god, trying to imagine those gold eyes listless.

"I didn't know he was murdered," Gohan says in a small voice.

From out of nowhere, Quell's words from earlier spring to mind. He remembers the heat in the god's voice.

" _Don't think you can deceive me! You think I will accept this disrespect, this daring, lying down? The Zealites took one from me and they shan't take another, not again!"_

The Zealites… Who are these people? Are they the ones who killed Mori? Is that why Quell is the way that he is?

It's as if the doctor can read Gohan's mind because he next tells him; "you don't need to worry about the logistics of it, at least for now… just be aware that this may come up in the future."

"Then why aren't people telling me these things?" he demands hotly, "you want me to cooperate but you won't let me in on anything."

"And you won't be the longer you insist you aren't Lord Mori," counters the doctor, "you can't have it both ways. You earn this information, Gohan. You earn it when you learn to put more effort into trying to discovering the truth of who you really are. Your reports from Doctor Hezk indicated that you had a breakthrough this morning and perhaps that is what has you so indignant now. What did you see? Was it truly so troubling?"

_Eyes… golden eyes…_

Gohan doubles down. "I didn't see anything."

"What a terrible liar you are."

"It's the truth."

"Then that's no truth I subscribe to," he replies simply. "If you want to be secretive then be it on your head, young man, but understand that the only person in your way is you. You want to return home so much? Then assist us, assist us with your effort, your attitude, your will. There's no point in you only giving a fraction of yourself when we require the entire being."

"I am tryi-"

"Do you really believe that, Gohan?" Doctor Jivel leans forward. "Would your father? Your mentor? Would you respond to their requests in such a fashion?"

"B-B…" His voice dies because he has no answer for that. Instead, Gohan groans. It's a deep, long sound accompanied by a pair of hands running down his face. Absently, he hears Doctor Jivel creak back in his chair. "Doctor," Gohan attempts, tired –so very tired- from today, "I really, _really_ , don't believe I'm Lord Mori."

The doctor's hardness drains from his face. Something soft replaces it. "That's because, Gohan, you don't think yourself important enough." The teenager deflates, accepting the truth. Doctor Jivel offers a smile as he tastes victory. "Ask yourself; if this was anyone else what would you believe? What would be your advice to them?"

Gohan leans back in his own chair, admiring the ceiling.

"I don't know."

"Then listen to someone who does have some advice… It's time for you to try a little harder, okay?"

The teenager continues to stare upwards, watching the patterns of the ceiling spiral together in its coat of paint. The white and grey delicately come together.

Gohan's shocked by a morbid thought when he stares for too long.

_Is this the last thing you saw before you died, Mori?_


	7. Onwards

When Gohan had been a kid he'd always wanted a friend his own age. A few of the village kids would invite him to play ball games sometimes when he'd get supplies for his mother, but rarely did he ever join them. Gohan had been far stronger, never really knowing his own strength –or at least what's considered a normal amount of strength– and so would often make excuses or just avoid them completely. It never hindered him; not having friends his own age, or at least he'd thought so until he went to school with Videl. Erasa and Sharpner (more so the former than the latter) can be considered his friends now too. They all study together, eat lunch together, and one time they all went to an amusement park together –he's never experienced anything like it. For once, he felt kind of normal.

So now that he's hanging around with the million-plus year old god, why does he feel like the older one?

Gohan grimaces. "My foot doesn't bend that way."

"Sure it does. Here. Just give it a little _twist._ Oh, don't scream, you baby."

"I think you broke something!"

"Do behave." Rixas clicks his tongue, angling Gohan's elbow to be better tucked in. "Aaand tah-dah. There you have it. Now _that's_ what I call a power stance!"

The teenager shakes, struggling to hold said 'power-stance' as his knees threaten to turn inwards at a moment's notice under the wobbly strain. His calves are on fire and Gohan's not sure he'll ever have use of his left ankle again. When Gohan collapses into a messy pile of throbbing limbs, Rixas claps like he'd just won an award.

"Excellent display. Absolutely fabulous."

Gohan extends a hand, grasping at air. "You're a bad teacher."

Rixas takes it and hauls him up, laughing. "You're a worse student."

Once he's up, Gohan takes to dusting the smattering of dirt off of his gi into little brown clouds. The once dark shade of his bottoms is now a murky brown-grey. "I'm never going to get this."

"You're doing better than last week."

And he is, if only because Gohan can hold the position for longer than three seconds now without losing balance. It's not exactly a proud feat but he'll take it. At least Rixas seems happy. There's a whopping grin on his face like Christmas had just come early, all whilst he's admiring the teenager with an affection resembling the budding of pride. Gohan won't bask in it however, instead turning away to look at anything else –he refuses to be a project for this meathead.

Refuse all he likes it's still happening.

"Here," calls Rixas. Gohan turns and catches an apple. "Get that down your neck. We'll pick up again once your lady ankles feel better."

Gohan's brow twitches. He takes a large bite of the apple, enjoying the dribble of juice running down his chin. They're much sweeter than the ones on Earth, never sour and always a girly pink colour. Gosh, what he'd do to be able to eat an Earth apple, sour or not…

It's been six weeks since his departure from Earth; six long weeks. He's trying to stay positive about all this. Gohan's been away from home for much longer. If he can survive the wilderness alone for six month as a little kid then he thinks that he can survive lodging in a fancy mansion with a bunch of weirdoes… even if one of said weirdoes thinks beating him up daily constitutes as training.

No, no. Gohan shakes his head, banishing the thought. _Positive_ ; that's right, he has to stay positive.

Another crunch sounds from the apple.

Whilst Rixas comes across as quite the eccentric, Gohan can say that the guy has somehow grown on him –much like how mould would trail up a tree or how a parasite would lovingly attach itself to an animal. This parasite mostly enjoys pestering Gohan to spar until he snaps and ends up doing exactly what he wants him to do anyway.

 _Ugh,_ is Gohan really that easy to play?

A sigh leaves the teenager. Everyone around here is crazy. They test him with their strange antics in the hopes that he'll stumble upon some senseless epiphany. Several weeks after the last _vision_ Gohan's not had any others whatsoever, and despite Rixas' pestering for him to try the serenity candle again he has no plans to do so. Gohan Son has no interest in drugs.

After his talk with Doctor Jivel a few weeks back, Gohan got up the next morning, tail between his legs, and searched around the estate looking for Rixas. He'd made sure to avoid the area of the estate with the large fountain as to make sure not to near Quell's quarters; that's one lesson learned. After an hour or so of searching, Gohan had managed to find the courtyard. It's a humble section of land, comparably small to some of the other portions of the property he'd seen already. Square, grey and encased in high walls, it makes a perfect place for private practice. This is where he'd found Rixas.

Gohan prefers the term 'determined' over 'stubborn'; a word which probably best describes him when coming to matters of the heart. Even if he'd been sorry for showing disrespect towards Rixas, he'd not been about apologizing because he really did stand by his words. He'd wanted to go home –still does, and so Gohan hadn't uttered anything of the sort. Apparently just seeing Gohan there had been enough for Rixas, however, because within seconds the deity had bounced over and put him into a headlock for nearly a solid two minutes, laughing.

Quick to forgive, quicker to smile; yes, Gohan can definitely see his father in this man… and that's why he must find the dolt so darn likeable.

"What do you wanna' do for lunch?" asks Rixas. "I still haven't shown you the South Lake Area yet. I think you'll like it; lots of wildlife."

"You want to take a break already?" Gohan's surprised. He's only sporting a bloodied lip, black-eye and two dislocations; that's practically nothing compared to how he usually comes out of this. "Look, I can still move my left leg. I feel like it's not a job well done until you break it."

Rixas barks a laughs, apple spraying everywhere. "I did say that you're getting better!"

Gohan wipes bits of the showered apple from his face. "I just think you like having a reason to beat me up."

"Fine, fine. We'll skip lunch. I'm game to continue sparring."

"N-No!" His hands wave up, eyes manic. "Okay, lunch it is! Let's go to this lake place of yours. I want to see it."

Rixas, as usual, is physical with his affection. An arm drapes around Gohan's sweaty shoulders. "Should I invite Quell? It'll be like old times." Another bark escapes when he reads Gohan's horror-struck expression. "I'm just teasing. Awh, Mori, don't look at me like that. It's a joke. I promise Quell won't be there. I'm seeing him tonight anyway."

Gohan cranes his neck away because a deep, dark part of him likes getting a reaction out of Rixas. Call it revenge for the uncountable amount of times Rixas gets a rise out of him. It's just payback. He milks it just long enough for Rixas to start calling him by his _actual_ name, a rare but immensely enjoyable thing just because it means the teenager's got one over on him.

"Go-haaan," he sings, "come eat with me, Go-haaan. Let's eat some delicious food, Go-haaan."

"Stop teasing me," the younger insists.

"Go-haaan."

"Rixas!"

"G–"

"I hope you choke on your lunch."

"Uwah, so mean. You're getting _mean_." The arm tightens around Gohan's neck and Rixas starts wailing into the crook of it like a child. He cries out the name, savouring each syllable's foreign sound as though he's a naughty schoolboy testing out new swear words. Gohan tries not to laugh when the idiot splutters into a damp shoulder. "Eugh, so… moist."

"Not all of us can remain bone dry," he off hands, slipping away courtesy of the sheath of perspiration. "We can't all be as criminally strong as a god, you know."

Rixas nods a head towards him, a small sort of smile on his face. " _You_ could."

The rare earnestness of it makes Gohan splutter. "Y-Yeah, well…"

Despite feeling like the more mature of the two Gohan doesn't mind too much. If a stranger saw them he's pretty sure they'd just look like a couple of friends mucking around; two normal school-age friends with nothing better to do than wrestle on a field in the middle of nowhere. It's nice, really. Whilst Erasa and Sharpner _could_ be considered friends, it feels as though that's really the case with Rixas.

There's a brief break of silence until a hand claps Gohan's arm. "Food?"

He smiles back, nodding. "Food."

* * *

**Age 780**

**Mount Paozu, Earth**

Schoolbooks, spare clothes, phone charger, questionable collection of comics accumulated over the years… Okay, he's packed everything he can see. Goten looks around the somewhat tidy bedroom; a foreign sight to behold. After clearing out everything of value to him (stuffed toys have been stored under the bed in a box), he can boast that for the first time in years that the floor can be seen in its entirety. And this is how it's going to look from now on; clean, empty and void of any inhabitant. Goten zips up his battered backpack and surveys the space.

"Good riddance," he tells the Mausoleum.

Even his room is a graveyard in its own right, harbouring memories like the dead, concealing good times in the depths of childhood memorabilia and teasing a time long left in the past. But no more will Goten put up with it. He doesn't want to be constantly reminded of how much he doesn't live up to… someone else.

The morning light peers through the cut of the curtains, making Goten suspect the dourness of yesterday's weather has long since passed. When he'd gotten home last night he'd had to deplete his dad's last first aid kit of senzu beans. He took one for the multiple broken bones and then took the other out of spite. His dad will probably return so broken and beaten up that he won't be able to make it to the first aid kit anyway. Piccolo will most likely have to take him straight to Dende.

Whatever. Goten doesn't care anyway. With his bag slung over his shoulder he makes his way down the stairs and through the kitchen. Just as he's about to open the backdoor it swings ajar. It's a bit of a shock and he almost falls over when his dad emerges from the other side, a colossal fish chopped in two resting on each side of his back.

"Good morning," he says, pushing past the teenager and into the kitchen. The fish follows. "I thought I'd get us something fresh for breakfast."

Goten stares into the lifeless whites of the poor creature, lost for words.

"I'm kind of hungry after last night's training session. There're some noodles in the fridge too, and some bread. What do you think?"

Not much, if the teenager is honest. The sheer disregard for what happened last night doesn't surprise Goten, not by a long shot. This is a typical Goku Son move. But it does frustrate him; repulse him a bit. Last night had been a mess. Goten doesn't want fish –he wants to go home. Yet here his dad stands, not an injury in sight and as fresh as a daisy, equipped with their meal and his sunshine smile. Goten is so riled up that he can't bring himself to even use words. Instead, he just makes his way towards the door, backpack swinging.

"Hey, hey, where you goin'? Goten? Hey, Goten, I'm calling you!"

Fists clenched, finally Goten swivels. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Huh?"

"You've gotta' be kidding me."

"What do you me–"

"After last night you think I want to hang around here?"

His dad looks genuinely confused. "Goten, I don't get–"

"It literally happened _last night_!" he snaps, "you beat me so hard that I barely made it home without passing out."

A flicker of discomfort passes over his dad's face, one which is just as quick to disappear. The man shrugs a shoulder and the fish slides free. "Heh. I guess we got a bit rough towards the end there–"

" _Rough?_ " he repeats, livid. "I couldn't even breathe! I—I really thought… God, Dad, I thought that you were going to kill me."

His dad looks like he's struggling not to react. The smile looks far more forced than normal. "I think I probably pushed it a bit far this time. Sorry, bud! Ha-ha, next time I'll–"

"There's not going to be a next time! I'm done. See this?" He shakes his backpack. "This is my stuff –all of it; I'm taking it all and not coming back."

"Goten?"

"I'm sick of it. All you want to do is train, train, _train_. I hate it! I'm so sick of training. Why can't you see how much I hate it? How much I don't wanna' get beaten up each and every time I'm here? How I'm not… not… _him_."

The saiyan tilts his head. "Gohan?"

"Don't say his name!"

"Why not? He's your brother."

"He's dead!"

"I… know _that_ ," he replies, still sounding equally confused as before and pushing all of Goten's buttons because of it. "But we don't need to pretend like he doesn't exist."

Goten hits a palm against the kitchen counter. " _Didn't_ –didn't exist."

His dad stands still and watches Goten for a particularly long time, face unreadable. The teenager feels scrutinized, as though it's him that's acting like the crazy one, as though he'd been the one to start senselessly pounding his kid into the dirt.

"He's dead, I know," Dad eventually continues in a deliberate voice. It sounds practiced. Maybe Piccolo has him repeating this same phrase every other day. At least that green asshole knows how far gone his dad is. "He died a while ago but it doesn't mean that he's gone."

"That's _exactly_ what it means so why can't we just move on? Why can't you just let it go? Why are you still so _obsessed_ with him?"

"I mean…" The man scratches at the back of his head, awkward. "I mean that just because he's not here _now_ doesn't mean that he's not with us like, uh, spiritually or something."

Angry, Goten presses. "Were you _'spiritually with us'_ when you died?"

"Sometimes." The response startles Goten –he doesn't have a reply to that. "Y'know," he continues, "I can't sense him or anything but I just _know_ that he's out there, and that he wants to come home. That's why I train so much."

Goten scoffs. "I know why you train. It's because you want to save him like you want to save _everyone_. You can't save the dead, Dad."

His dad gawkily chuckles. "You tryin' to sound like Piccolo or something?"

" _He's_ dead and there's nothing you can do about it. The dragon balls don't work, and you won't be able to beat up his gravestone until he decides to come back–"

" _Goten_."

His dad doesn't appreciate the lack of respect but Goten's sick of it. "No, Dad," he says, "I'm done. See here," he shakes his backpack once again, "this is everything I own from this dust box. I'm serious about not coming back. I don't want anything to do with you and your mad quest to become stronger and stronger. Count me done with this house, and done with you."

"D-Don't be like that," he tries, brows dropping. The fish slops to the floor as he reaches towards the departing teenager. "Let's talk about this, son. Goten, _Goten_ –"

"Get off'a me," he snaps when he's tugged back. "I said I'm done."

"I don't get it. Where's this coming from? Is this because of last night?"

_Really?!_

It's been a long time coming and Goten says just as much. He feels the heat run all the way from his chest and up into his head, where it feels like it's ready to burst red and pop. "Are you kidding me? Dad, I _hate_ coming here! All you want to do is train and fight. Mum got sick of it and so have I! It's all you can think about. I know some of it has to do with _him,_ but I really think you're just addicted to getting stronger. You're just like Vegeta –except Vegeta isn't completely awful because I saw him actually spend time with Trunks and Bulla, doing something that isn't sparring. I bet even he thinks you've lost it too, huh?"

Hurt courses across his dad's face but Goten can't stop himself now that he's started.

"You beat me so hard that, if not for Piccolo, I really could have died!" he shouts. The truth of it is still raw and so it still hurts. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. "And you don't even care, even now, you don't say sorry or you don't acknowledge it—you just bring a _fucking_ fish and–" he takes a deep breath, "and you just try and brush all this under the carpet as usual. I'm sick of it here! I'm sick of feeling invisible!"

"Goten–"

"You hit me!" he accuses as though he's just realised it for the first time, "you really _hit_ me!"

"G–"

"A-And if not for Picc…" A hand reaches up and catches the first sob. "Dad… you really hurt me."

Goten's not cried in years, not like this. The last time had been when his parents first announced their separation. Even though Mum promised that it wouldn't be forever they're still not back together even to this day, and it's not as if Goten doesn't know why. He does. It's because his dad is acting like a selfish asshole.

"Why are you being like this?" he asks through a clot of tears. "I just want us to be normal again!"

The pregnant pause is a stretched one. It's not silent if only because Goten can't control the hiccoughs behind the palm of his hand. No matter how hard he tries he can't swallow the sadness.

"Goten," Dad tries once more. It's spoken so softly that Goten has to look up to see if he'd heard right, and once he does he notices that _finally_ his dad's face looks as wrought with the same stress as Goten feels. "Please… just hear me out."

He swallows against the dryness of his throat as those dark eyes bore into his own. They're like those of a puppy's. Goten finds it impossible to say no and so he turns and waits.

"I… I know I messed up last night," Dad is quick to say, "I kind of… just… got _too_ into it. I'm sorry. Goten, I'm really sorry. Please don't go."

"You hurt me," he repeats weakly.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. Look, Piccolo really gave me a hard time last night after you left. I know what I did was awful –I just… I really suck at this kind of stuff, you know?"

Yes, Goten knows. He holds his breath and waits for his dad to continue.

"Even when I knew that you were done I just wanted to push you more. I just think you're so strong, Goten. I know you could reach the next level if you just _tried_ –"

" _Dad_!"

He jostles. "Ah, I'm sorry! Look, I know what I did was wrong. It won't happen again –ever again– so if you stay and give me a chance then you don't have to worry. I won't drag you out for a spar." A glance is spared for the fish crumpled on the floor in two halves. "Actually, I was thinking that we could go fishing today. Getting this guy was really refreshing and I was thinking we could check out the creek after we eat… I mean… if you want to."

Goten furrows his brows, staring hard at decapitated fish. "I don't know."

Then he feels the spread of warm fingers through his hair, and he looks up to see something not completely readable in his dad's expression. "I really am sorry," he quietly tells him, "I wouldn't ever hurt you on purpose. I love you, kiddo."

The teenager sniffs. He knows his dad didn't mean to hurt him. It just happens. What annoys Goten most is that it's always an accident. His dad never forgets a dinner date on purpose, never hits Goten too hard on purpose, never makes promises he'll break on purpose; it just kind of happens. The problem with his dad is that he never tries to avoid his own pitfalls; he always prioritizes the wrong stuff.

_But he's trying now…_

Goten stares at his dad's hurting eyes.

_Just once chance._

"Fishing…" the teenager mumbles, "…could be fun." He then notices the man's expression lighten by several shades. "It'll just be fishing –no fighting?"

"None," his dead assures, bright. "It'll just be me, you and any of the fish we catch."

"You promise? Piccolo won't be there, right?"

A grin spreads wide, and the man laughs. "We'll have a father-son day. No fighting, namekians or anything of the sort. Heck, I'll change out of my gi now." His dad's smile is contagious. Goten finds himself mirroring it as the goof scratches at the back of his head, sheepish. "I think I've still got some regular clothes somewhere."

_I'll give him this one._

Goten wipes a snotty nose against his arm as the last of the tears dry up. His dad has an arm around his neck now and his pulling him in for a half hug/half headlock, chuckling as Goten pretends to hate every moment of it.

"We could go to the World Martial Arts Tournament if you want –in the next couple of weeks I mean– if you want," he goes on to say over the top of Goten's mountainous locks. "Don't worry. We don't have to participate or anything. I just thought it could be nice."

The tournament had been moved due to force majeure from May of that year to the dryer, sizzling date of August. Goten knows his dad had originally planned on participating to try and earn some prize money but after a succession of typhoons the idea had been put on the back burner. Actually, the teenager enjoyed that last tournament he went to, and a hopeful part of him doesn't hate the idea of going this year.

"We… could do that," he says coyly.

"Good. Great. That's great! Say, let's get breakfast on the stove and then we can head out and enjoy the sunshine."

"Ugh, I'm not eating anything that witnessed me blubber," Goten says in reference to the fish on the floor.

Dad ruffles at his hair again. "I don't mean to break it to you, kiddo, but that poor guy long since bit it."

"I don't know. It's giving me the stink eye."

Another laugh leaves his dad. "Oh yeah, have you thought that maybe–"

The back door flies open and Goten pistons a foot into the air out of shock. Dad is quick on his feet and pushes him behind, but it's all for nought when the easily recognizable form of the Supreme Kai perches at the doorframe.

"Oh, you scared me," Dad breathes, hand to chest. "I didn't sense you approachin–"

"Goku, I need your assistance," urges the kai.

There's a manic energy about the guy, something Goten's never seen before except in the instance of the fiasco surrounding Majin Buu. The flop of white hair against the kai's purple skin is askew and flat with perspiration. Clearly there's an effect on his dad too because Goten feels the arm around his shoulder slither downwards.

"What happened?"

The Supreme Kai looks between father and son, unsure of how to elaborate. "I just tracked some warriors to this area. I thought that perhaps they'd been pursuing you."

His dad leans forward. "Warriors?"

The tone sounds less concerned and more… excited.

"Dad, fishing, remember?"

He coughs, falling back. "Uh, right. Fishing. Sure, yeah."

But the Supreme Kai isn't done. "These warriors have been causing distress amongst the higher up kais and gods for some time. For them to be hovering around Earth is a cause for concern. I could really do with your assistan–"

"Sorry," Goten interrupts, not at all sorry. "But Dad and I have stuff to do, right, Dad?"

But his dad doesn't look as sure. He gives a pat to Goten's shoulder as he passes, stepping over the fishy goliath on the floor and over to the Supreme Kai. "What? They're special higher beings or something?"

" _Dad_."

"Zealites," says the Supreme Kai; whatever that means. There's a weight of exasperation about the way he says it. "They're called Zealites, and from our intelligence on them so far all we know is that they're plotting something of great magnitude. Why they're on Earth we still have yet to determine."

"But they're strong, right?"

"Yes. We've had some rough encounters," he dismisses, waving a hand. "Your planet's dragon balls; do you know where they are?"

Everyone knows where the four star ball is. It resides in the dustiest and loneliest space in the Mausoleum, sitting atop the highest shelf in the most northern bookshelf of the room where it most likely spectates his dad's comings and goings on a regular basis. Goten watches his dad say as much to the kai, to which the kai says something back and then the exchange is just white noise to the teenager's ears.

His father's voice grows more and more animated at the prospect of the kai's concerned words, and Goten starts to feel something bubble in his stomach, bubble hot and red. Without another word, he snatches the backpack up and starts in the other direction of the front door.

"Where you going?" asks Dad before he can make the corner.

Goten swivels, his backpack slamming the doorframe. "Pick now, Dad. It's either me or _that_."

Horror-struck, his dad lumbers forward with feet which refuse to cooperate. "Goten, come on. You can't expect me not to help out here."

"This is your last chance, Dad."

His heart aches, panging hard.

_Pick me._

"Dad?"

_Please…_

His dad's eyes grow wide. He looks like a deer in the headlights, stuck between which path to take in order to escape an oncoming truck.

Goten's chest tightens.

_Fine. I'll make the choice for you._

The deer doesn't move and so one path closes up. Before his dad can even give a reply, Goten is out of the front door and on his way home to Fire Mountain.

* * *

**Age 774**

**The Realm of the Almighty, the Estate Grounds**

"Move that back foot –move it!"

Gohan whirls, tripping over his own ankle. "I'm trying!" he snaps back as his attacker pursues him. Rixas is extraordinarily fast, much faster compared to Gohan, especially so as he attempts to bat him away with this new stance. He just can't keep his balance.

"Mori!" Rixas rebukes mid assault, "watch left!"

_Mine or his?_

It's too late; Rixas is merciless and manages a vicious strike against his left ankle. A crunch sounds, and then a yelp. A rush of pain courses down his leg and the teenager plummets down onto the pads of his knees, the grass swallowing around baggy gi pants as he tips over to bring his foot up.

"You broke it!" Gohan growls, "damn it, Rixas!"

Rixas saunters over next to him with annoying lightness and inspects the injury. "I sure did. Look at that bruising. What a lovely clean break."

Gohan hisses from the pain, and probably from the frustration too. "You didn't need to go _that_ far!"

Rixas puckers his lips. "I warned you. I said that I was gonna' come left at you. It's not my fault that you've got the reflexes of a pensioner." He clicks his tongue as though _he's_ the one who has the right to be frustrated. "Here, let me have a look."

Gohan gives the deity a bit more space to manoeuvre. "You know what you're doing, right?"

The idiot turns and flashes his warmest smile. "Not really."

Flopping backwards against the dirt, Gohan refuses to believe that this man is really millions of years old. Just what has he been doing for all this time? If Gohan was that age he'd at least try and learn all there is to learn about first aid or injuries. Heck, if he was that old he'd want to learn about everything.

Rixas leans down and Gohan thinks it's because he's trying to get a better look, so when the dolt plants a sloppy kiss to the base of his ankle the teenager swivels and nearly knees him in the face.

"I kissed it better, aren't you happy?"

"No!" Gohan yaps, "I need the serum, you great big dope."

Said serum is the medical cream Rixas had introduced to him weeks ago. Its magical properties have the capability to heal any wound or injury much like how senzu beans can. However, a key difference is that this serum, named Amber Salve for its orange-gold colouring, is more plentiful in that a little really does go a long way. Whilst senzu beans are rare and can only be grown in a specific place, Amber Salve lines the shelves of the medical bay in large bucket-like tubs.

_These gods are so spoilt. What Dad would do to get his hands on stuff like that..._

"I haven't got any on me," Rixas says as he gives Gohan's throbbing ankle a fond pat. "We'll have to go back to the medical bay. Think you can stand or will I have to carry you bridal style?"

"Or I could wait for you here," Gohan suggests.

Rixas just has to be melodramatic about it. "If you want to be boring about it then _I_ _guess_. Does my bride require anything else whilst I'm there?"

"Ugh, don't be creepy."

The blond laughs it off and jumps up onto the balls of his feet. The bird's nest on the top of his head bounces with him as he makes his way to the dirt road. It's a long, winding thing leading back to the estate through a snicket ending at the medical bay. After a wave goodbye Rixas has disappeared into the density of the forest, leaving Gohan to lay spread-eagle in the grass. The flowers are even more aromatic today, and so he savours the tranquil moment if only because he knows Rixas will certainly come and upset it when he returns.

_I wonder what's going on on Earth right about now…_

A rustle in the nearby bushes has him fold upwards. The ankle screams in admonishment from the sharpness of it, but Gohan's too preoccupied with who could be coming through the thicket. When nobody shows up he puts it down to being either the wind or a wild animal. These woods often harbour strange noises, noises which sometimes have him lying in bed at night staring out and over the pitch black forests in concern. Times like these remind Gohan that he really isn't home, and that these are not _his_ woods.

"Hello?" he tries weakly. There's no reply, not even a hush from the leaves.

Eventually he lowers back down to the grass. This isn't the first time he's been left alone out here and it won't be— another rustle sounds. He sits up.

"Who's there?" he calls.

Silence bar the usual chirping and whoosh of the river responds. Gohan has a bad feeling and so he jumps up onto two –albeit wobbly– feet and plants his back against a particularly big tree. A course of frustration aimed at Rixas makes him grit his teeth. If that idiot hadn't _crushed_ his ankle then he wouldn't be such easy pickings right about now.

"Show yourself," Gohan insists when he hears not a rustle, but a misplaced footstep.

_Don't freak out. Stay calm._

Another bout of silence drags on for so long that Gohan starts to think that it must have all been in his head. He leans ever so slightly forward and tries to focus his ears. Nothing. That's when a sudden crunch of bark explodes behind him as a fist plants through the centre. Gohan is so shocked that he doesn't register when the fist unfurls and grabs at his top, yanking him hard as splinters soar in every direction and cut into the surrounding woodland. There's little time to spin and pull himself clean, and the chaos of wood exploding has him near enough blind, so when the pursuer grapples the teenager to floor, he has little choice but to comply.

Gohan avoids a second hand grasping at his throat by bringing a knee up and into the gut of the individual. It connects cuttingly and the person bounces back into a staggered hold. This gives Gohan just enough time to appraise the fighter, or at least what he can of them. They're completely veiled in black from head to toe, as though they're a three-dimensional shadow cast over the greens of the forest. It's jaunting to see, creepy in its own right; something which makes Gohan think of the equally uncomfortable uncanny valley characters he's seen in horror movies. The featureless face harbours no expression as it stares him down.

"Who are you?"

They don't respond. When the head tilts ever so slightly Gohan feels a shiver run down his spine.

"Why did you attack me?"

Finally, the person responds and Gohan feels the air around drop several degrees cooler.

"Be still and I'll make this quick." The voice is a whisper, genderless, barely heard over the emptiness between them.

Gohan takes a step back just to stumble. His ankle thrums in immediate fury as the teenager contains a yowl. It's a cruel reminder that he's actually injured and any serious fight would have Gohan on his back in seconds. But he doesn't take the next move lying down; he wrestles the incoming attack astray with a well-timed grapple, and then strikes out with his injured foot. When it connects he makes sure not to wince, makes sure not to give away his weakness, but it's all for nought when the attacker cracks a dark elbow into the base of the ankle.

The teenager yowls and sinks low. When another hand grasps at his chin and flexes he's forced to look up and at the empty darkness of this mystery person. Gohan sees nothing. The void continues forever in a swirl of black smoke, one shaped into human form, feeling firm and just as real as any other living creature Gohan's come by.

The teenager goes to pull back for a better swing and that's when it happens—

"Brace yourself!"

Her voice is shrill and recognizable, and he doesn't do as told straight away. That's when he sees a gloved fist curl into the cheek of the creature, making it churn away at an awkward angle before crumpling into the distance. His saviour is quick to collect him from the ground.

"Are you injured, my lord?"

Gohan looks up numbly as he stumbles about, saying dumbly; "You're that captain."

"Captain Roarg," she says. It's a fleeting introduction, or rather reintroduction as they'd already met weeks ago in these very woods.

Her attention is now on a newly formed dust cloud, one which had been formed from when punching that mysterious attacker. She holds a hand against his upper arm. It's a protective action and makes Gohan feel all the more useless. As the fog of debris settles, the hand slides down his arm.

"Damn," she growls, "sneaky bastard."

Gohan focuses and understands the frustration equally as well. The person has disappeared.

"Cowards… the lot of them…" Captain Roarg sighs and then turns back to him. Her face doesn't look as tightly wrought as the last time he'd seen her, now it's smooth with the lack of hostility, almost warm with concern as she gives him a once over. There's then an effort of dusting him down, most likely checking for injuries as she wipes away the splints of wood. "Your ankle… did they do that to you, my lord?"

"N-No," Gohan replies. Talk about a personality turn-around; she'd threatened to kill him last time. The memory isn't lost on him. "Th-That was Rixas."

She clicks her tongue but doesn't comment.

"Please can you stop doing… uh… _that."_

Her hands hover over his gi, halting. All the twigs are long gone spare for the tiny thing she then manages to pluck out of his hair. Something about the way her lips twitch tell Gohan that she's itching to smirk in his face, lord or no.

"I'm sorry," she eventually says. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

His cheeks burn. "Yeah… well, uh, just… who was that?"

Captain Roarg's demeanour changes in a drastic swing. "Nothing for you to concern yourself with at the present time, my lord. I'm sorry I wasn't able to intervene quicker. Had I been surveying the area with a keener eye then–"

Gohan twists. "You've been watching me?"

"The entire area," she goes on to say, swinging the blonde braid from one shoulder to the other. "Do you not recall? That's how you I found you some weeks ago. I scout this area along with my men. We watch over the estate and by extension the entire realm."

He peers over his shoulders and into the shrubbery. Are her men out there now? It's in all likelihood that they're pursuing the attacker as they speak.

"Are you injured, Lord Mori?" she asks once again, tone more measured. Gohan shakes his head but it seems to do nothing to ease her concerns. "I think it wise we take a trip to the Spire Infirmary just as a precaution."

"I-I'm fine! Really! Nothing happened!"

"With all due respect, perhaps we let Doctor Jivel be the judge of that."

Gohan sighs and scratches at the back of his head. He really doesn't like being treated like some precious china doll. Doesn't she remember that they'd gone toe-to-toe when they first met? Their fight had been pretty fairly matched and that was without Gohan really using a good portion of his power. And now with his long training days with Rixas, he's sure that he'd outclass her pretty quickly.

When he turns to tell her as much the teenager stops, words thick on the tip of his tongue. Her eyes are thin as she gazes over to where the attacker had been, trailing over each spot with growing anxiety. Gohan can sense it. Her feelings are on her sleeves about as much as his are.

"Nobody is hurt," he reassures. The captain still doesn't move. Her expression remains hard.

Quell's voice travels through his mind once again like a recurring echo, that same sentence;

' _Don't think you can deceive me! You think I will accept this disrespect, this daring, lying down? The Zealites took one from me and they shan't take another, not again!'_

Gohan breathes hard and cradles his arms. What a mess this is turning out to be. "Captain," he tries another time, "was it the Zealites?"

The reaction is instantaneous. Her head whips round, eyes wide and expressive. She offers not a word but that face alone tells Gohan all he needs to know.

* * *

It's a bit nostalgic in a way to be back in the Spire area. The hospital still has that clinical smell he remembers, and the beeping is a familiar and unwelcome white noise he'd long since deleted from his brain. Something about it altogether makes the teenager squirm. His time had been both daunting and comfortable (thanks to the good doctor) here and so the bittersweet anxiety is rife. Unsurprisingly, no one present seems to have much sympathy.

Doctor Jivel swipes a hand down his wrinkled face. "Lord Mori's foot holds 26 bones and you, my lord," his bespectacled gaze lingers towards Rixas, "managed to break eight of them. That's nearly a third."

Rixas doesn't take it lying down. "I told him to watch out."

"And I told you not to play rough with the poor boy."

"Tch. We were gonna' use Amber Salve."

The doctor sighs, looking even more exasperated than a moment ago. "The serum is not to be used like superglue every time something goes wrong, my lord. Overuse will strengthen the body's will against it. Prevention is better than any kind of remedy."

Rixas leans back in his chair like a sulky child. "Yeah, let's just all stay bubble-wrapped our entire existence. Sounds like a hoot."

Doctor Jivel, from behind his desk, turns and regards Gohan with badly veiled sympathy. The teenager sinks lower in his seat with the growing desire to turn invisible. Even though it's Rixas being told off, Gohan feels he should say something in the god's defence.

"He, uh, did warn me I guess."

Rixas actually laughs and the doctor just appears even more concerned.

"Wow, good try, little brother."

Gohan feels his cheeks warm. "Sh-Shut up."

Rixas leans over and snaps his fingers, lips upturned. "Look, Doc, he's fine. There'd been nothing else wrong with him bar a poor foot, and you've done such an excellent job healing it that I think it's even better now than before." The idiot slaps a hand on Gohan's knee. "If we've got any other problems then we'll call you."

When said hand squeezes, Gohan knows it's his turn to agree. "Uh, ah, sure. We'll call."

Apparently this isn't good enough for the doctor and after a beat he gestures to the office door with a strained smile. "Lord Rixas, would you mind if I spoke to Lord Mori alone?"

Rixas runs a hand through his hair and groans. "Oh jeez, fine."

The door closes behind the blond with an unhappy slam. The teenager's brows crease together as his gaze lingers there long after Rixas disappeared. He's really like a little kid, honestly.

"Don't judge him too harshly," comes the doctor's surprising words. His glasses now lay on the table, folded, as the doctor massages the place they once were. "I think he's just eager to get you back to the estate. Lord Quell has put a lot of trust in him to keep you safe –not to mention pressure."

"Today wasn't his fault."

"He won't see it that way, and Lord Quell probably won't either. At least Captain Roarg had been there today otherwise… well… That doesn't bear thinking about."

Gohan frowns. "I'm not incapable, Doctor. I've fought bigger and badder, you know."

"We still don't understand the situation as it is so we need to proceed carefully. These people–"

_Zealites._

"–are after serving an unknown purpose." Doctor Jivel manages to hide his distress fairly well but Gohan can see through the cracks on this one. The deepening wrinkles atop the bridge of his nose breed. "You need to be aware of your surroundings, you need to practice caution, and most importantly, Gohan, you need to learn to say no to Lord Rixas when you think the occasion proves dangerous."

A surge of irritation floods him. "It wasn't his fault!"

The doctor's darkened expression gives way just a bit and the tickle of a smile can be seen, tempted. "Lord Rixas is an excitable person, and that excitement often leads him into difficult situations. Don't let the blind lead the blind, you're smarter than that."

 _That makes me blind too…_ Gohan purses his lips, unhappy. _I suppose I am right now._

"When you recall more memories and get a better sense of yourself then I'm sure you won't have to deal with either of your brothers' overprotectiveness."

Gohan wouldn't call Quell overprotective. In fact, he'd call Quell a lot of things he's sure his mother would disapprove of. That guy makes Gohan want to bury his head and never come out ever again. And whilst he's at avoiding the god, he can also pretend that that strange faceless attacker also doesn't exist. Just what the heck is this place? Why are there so many disturbing people?

"Right," Gohan stands, still feeling indignant. "Got it."

Doctor Jivel also stands and leads the teenager to the door. "Have I made you unhappy?"

Gohan follows. "A little if I'm going to be honest."

The door opens and Gohan walks through it, leaving the doctor to hover about the frame. There's a tired smirk straining his smile. "What is this? In my absence have you become fond of Lord Rixas, Gohan?"

The question catches him off-guard and before Gohan can respond, the door shuts in his face.

Annoyingly, the question long lingers after he and Rixas leave the Squire infirmary. The two walk shoulder to shoulder along a highly populated street, one bristling with characters of all kinds. He remembers the experience of seeing them the first time he left the infirmary, and the excitement hasn't lessened any even now. The overwhelming diversity is such a shock that he can't stop staring at the variety of people going about their day. Most are wearing important-looking robes, others; armour all whilst a select few wear the more casual clothes like Gohan and Rixas have chosen.

The cityscape of the area boasts impressive architectural masterpieces like the Spire Infirmary, some which swoop along the horizon in asymmetric curves. They contrast the older style builds, ones which are reminiscent of the buildings found on the estate grounds. Silver against reddened, almost brown, brickwork creates a landscape of both old and new; the idealized gentrification. Remarkably, there is little in the way of traffic. Gohan recognizes the same dark type of car he'd taken to the estate in abundance but very little else. No public transport can be seen whatsoever, crazy considering the flying-ban enforced upon the inhabitants, and something which leaves him wondering how the society in this area works. There's clearly a hierarchy, one which he's apparently apart of, and there are people working in a variety of fields. Just what kind of lives do these people live—

"I can see the cogs in your head move," Rixas says, bumping at his shoulder. "You trying to create a plan of mass destruction in that giant brain of yours? Planning to bring down the entire universe?"

Gohan rolls his eyes. "Ha-ha. No, I'm just wondering how this place operates; if it's similar to Earth or– "

"Ugh, boring." Hands clap together when they pass a darkened alley along the street. "Oh, let's stop by here before we go home. Just don't tell Quell."

Before Gohan can protest, the blond has him by the forearm and is dragging him along the path. The alley starts to thin with each turn they make, and darker too as the street lighting (glowing an atmospheric purple) becomes more sparse. Gohan doesn't think that they're ever going to stop until Rixas plants him outside an ominous wooden door. A pause stretches out and he suspects that the idiot is trying to gauge a reaction from him. When Gohan refuses to act one way or another Rixas seems to give up and push the door ajar. The room comes into focus.

This is when a reaction erupts.

"A bar?!" Gohan calls out, "after everything, you've brought me to a bar? You're kidding, right?!"

"It's called The Wing and Sing and it just so happens to be my favourite karaoke bar," he says as he pulls Gohan along into the room. "We used to come here all the time before you become a vegetable."

" _One_ , stop saying that! And _two_ , I know for a fact that I wouldn't sing karaoke with you in any life time."

"Oh, you _are_ remembering me." A hand presses against his heart. "How sweet. Exactly how you like your drinks by the way, now that's what _I_ remember." Once they reach the dingy set up of a bar, Rixas slaps his hand down hard against the wood. "Hey, barkeep, get me and my brother two bottles of your berryade cidre."

The barkeep, a man of large proportions with a face resembling a disappointed bulldog, considers the blond with a raised eyebrow.

"Please," Rixas eventually adds, and to Gohan's upmost horror the man reaches down to the refrigerator and does as requested. "Thanks, Iger. Love ya."

"I'm too young to drink," Gohan hisses. "I'm seventeen."

"Look," the icy bottle is then thrust into Gohan's wavering hands, "we've had a rubbish day. I want a drink, and heaven knows how much _you_ could do with relaxing a little. One drink won't kill you."

Gohan plants the beer down on the bar, stubborn. "I'm seventeen."

There's a smack of the lips as Rixas finishes half the bottle in one go. "Then it'll put some hairs on your chest. Have you ever even tried alcohol, Mori?"

"N-No, of course not."

Gohan peers around the mostly empty bar, paranoid. There are only a few patrons dotted around the darkened room; some are playing what looks like strange card game in the corner, others sit in couples talking in languages Gohan can't at all place. None of them are paying any attention to them whatsoever.

"No one here gives a shit," Rixas adds brightly. He takes a seat on a barstool and gestures for Gohan to do the same. "At least give it a taste. You never know, you might like it."

Gohan pushes the plopped down bottle further away just to prove a point. Doctor Jivel told him to start refusing the idiot so it might as well start here. Rixas looks between Gohan and the bottle before shrugging and taking another generous swig of his own drink.

The disappointment strangely affects the teenager, making him feel like he needs to defend himself. "I just got attacked by some—" _Zealite; say it. Just say it._ "Stranger. I don't really think you getting drunk is going to help the situation, Rixas."

The other bats a hand and chuckles into the neck of his drink. "It's _one_ drink. We're stopping for _one_. It's hardly enough to throw a fit over. And hey, isn't it nice to have some different scenery?"

Looking back over his shoulder, Gohan spots what he thinks is a woman asleep on a mountain of beer cans.

"It's very… different."

Rixas laughs again and slaps him on back. "I meant the city. I saw your eyes go all misty and starstruck. I know you loved it."

Gohan can admit it. "Yeah, it's nice."

The other rolls his eyes, still amused. " _Nice_. What a crap word. The Almighty is one of the most wondrous and magical realms in all of existence. Gods, kais and all varieties of deities reside here in divine glory and all you can say is that it's… nice?"

"You did bring me to a dive bar."

Rixas slams the bottle down. "So you _do_ know what this place is!"

They both laugh at the accusation, and even though Gohan's drink goes untouched he starts to slowly enjoy his time away from the estate, away from the pressures of having to remember being someone he's not. Rixas, as usual, is fun and lively company, and unsurprisingly, one drink turns into two and then three. When Rixas orders his fourth cidre and Gohan's second water he doesn't even look any warier for it.

"I can handle a drink," he says. "You, on the other hand, aw man, you're done after three. I'm guessing it's something to do with your weaker body. Famis was the same, and Quell can drink more than I can so I think our tolerances are definitely affected by that."

Gohan leans forward over the bar. "What do you mean?"

"Mmm…" He raps his fingers along the wooden top. "I'm not sure how much I should tell you but I can't really see this hurting anything. Basically, out of the four of us brothers only two were born to be physical fighters. I mentioned to you a while ago that you were shit hot with ki –and you were, but also, you could never fight like I can, or Quell can. Famis was talented in the art of magic. His spell casting was just awesome but the poor guy couldn't throw a punch to save his life, rest his soul."

Gohan realises something. "And that's why you've been excited about sparring with me, right?"

"Ah, you got me." Rixas raises his bottle. "I think you always wanted to be able to fight like Quell and I could, but you never could keep up. As weak as you are now I think you've got some promise to catch up. When you learn how to tap into your ki again I think you'll be my perfect training buddy."

_You and my dad are soul mates. Fact._

But then Rixas sighs and the mood deflates along with him. "But who knows how long we'll be able to keep at it, y'know? Quell is going to freak when Doctor Jivel sends him your report. He hates the idea of you fighting as it is. Now he's going to kick up even more of a fuss. Agh, what a mess. All this over some stupid Zeali–" His eyes trail over to Gohan to assess the damage, pausing. Gohan, in turn, pretends to know nothing, understand less. "Ugh, it's not like you're stupid even with the brain damage. You know a bit about the Zealites, right?"

Somewhat ashamed, the teenager takes a sip of his water before replying. "A bit."

"Well, that's about as much as we know anyway so don't sweat it." Rixas brushes his hand through the wavy blond mess and gages Gohan for a period. The gold of his eyes truly dazzle for a moment. "Did that guy freak you out –that Zealite?"

_He's worried about me._

Instead of the usual guilt associated with Rixas' brotherly affection there's now a rush of warmth. Gohan smiles at the god. "I'm fine. I think Captain Roarg scared them off."

Rixas guffaws. "Yeah, probably. Heaven knows that she scares the shit out of me when she gets mad."

"She scares me a little, I think," Gohan readily admits.

"Oh yeah?" Rixas quirks a lopsided grin as he pinches at the teenager's chin. "I get the impression that girls just scare you in general."

"I have a girlfriend!"

"Of course you do, sweetie-pie."

"I do!" Gohan hates the way the idiot keeps laughing and laughing, but still, he can't stop himself from cracking a smile at it all. Whilst he can be the subject of teasing at school it really does feel lighter with Rixas. Just as he's about to joke back does the god lean in, expression sombre.

"In all seriousness, the Zealites really are big question marks to us. We don't know who they are or what danger they pose, and not just to us, but to the kais and surrounding gods and angels alike. So listen well when I say it's really in your best interest to work on your memories. The sooner you regain some of yourself the sooner you can protect yourself. I… I can't stick by your side forever, little brother. You're going to have to step up."

"Rixas…"

A hand rests on the top of Gohan's shoulder. "Eventually, word will get out about Mori's, _your_ , return and you'll have to be ready. We're not without enemies. The lives we lead; us three; me, you and Quell, they're complicated and full of unknowns. We need you to be savvy… we can't lose you again."

Mouth dry, the teenager doesn't know what to say. Denying Rixas right now looks like it would kill him.

"I know you hated using the serenity candle but I'm pretty sure you got something out of it, didn't you? You're gonna' have to open your mind to some new stuff. Then when you know a bit more I can get you trained up in order to protect yourself."

Gohan exhales a deep breath as he tries to mull over the words. It's hard for him because this is just asking too much. Even if his dad had asked this much of him Gohan isn't sure he'd be able to live up to it. "I really don't want to do drugs, Rixas. It's not in my nature. I'm not that way… and, really… you talk about training me but I'm not a passionate fighter either. I practice with my dad and my little brother because it's something we bond over. It's a hobby at best, and certainly not a passion. When I fight seriously it's only to protect those I care about and the Earth, not because I have a taste for it or love using my energy. Using ki is a means to an end, and really, it probably causes more harm than good." He pauses and then regards his friend. "I fight for justice and I fight for my family."

Rixas furrows his brow. It's a delicate move, and his voice is soft. "But we're your family."

"My family is on Earth… and I want to get home to them… that's why I'm doing this, for them." An uneasy, nervous laugh escapes from Gohan's lips. "I mean, I do want to help you… but…" His voice trails off and Rixas sighs, eyes as heavy as the atmosphere around them.

"That's a lot for some _Earth_ kid," Rixas finally comments.

Gohan nods, still contemplative when his forgotten cidre is slid back towards him. He looks up to see Rixas regarding him with tired amusement.

"You're going to need this going forward, trust me. It's only gonna' get harder."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okie dokie. Hey there, I've just up and moved a story I'd written and posted for FF.net onto here. Seeing as I frequent both sites I thought I might as well. I've just posted the first seven chapters together on here so if you've not read this elsewhere then I hope you had a happy binging!
> 
> Some of the later chapters have been edited by the lovely KagariAsuha because I do NOT possess a keen eye whatsoever. So thanks to her! She also drew a wonderful cover art for it with Gohan's sparkly golden eyes. Such a hero, that one.
> 
> Anyway, okay. So, DBZ community. Let's talk. I hate them. Oh so much. I think that Toriyama threw them about with zero meaning other than 'wow strong'. That's cool. I dig that energy. However it doesn't really help with writing cohesive storytelling, and I won't be relying on them. Characters like Rixas, Quell, Gohan, Goku, Vegeta... they won't be judged on numbers. Just because Vegeta can hit harder it doesn't mean he's fast enough to catch Gohan, ya dig? I want to put more emphasis on skill rather than whatever a scouter says.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the fic going forward. Thanks for giving it a chance so far. Cheers


	8. Who Am I To Tell Me Who I Am?

Captain Roarg is here… again. She's always about now, always hovering around whilst Gohan and Rixas train. Gohan really wouldn't mind as much if not for her little barbs here and there. They're not pointed or obvious enough that he can say anything back, but the way she teases him is so unexpected in contrast with her usual polite detachment. Otherwise she's friendly enough. Rixas is apparently her superior and yet she doesn't really treat him as such when it's just the three of them. When other soldiers are around she puts up a façade of respectful distance, something which certainly disappears the moment no ears are around to judge.

A couple of days back, she'd offered him some pointers on how to avoid Rixas' lightning kick, the thing which took out his ankle last week and had the doctor berate both of them about. Sadly, the advice didn't mean much as the dolt just changed targets from the ankle to Gohan's right wrist. What's with this guy and going for the joints?

"Lord Rixas aims for the weakest points at all times, even during training. If your form is feeble then you are merely inviting him to showcase it," Captain Roarg had said the other evening as she applied one of Gohan's many coatings of Amber Salve. "He comes across as brash, but Lord Rixas is actually highly skilled in recognizing an opponent's weakness and then waiting to attack."

"So he's a predator?"

She'd laughed; very much a foreign sound, and then agreed with him.

Later, Rixas and Captain Roarg had even demonstrated defence techniques in order to strengthen his stance. It'd been most satisfying to see Rixas as the test dummy just because the idiot had to be flattened so many times on his back in the demonstrations. Sometimes she'd even stay for meals but more times than not, she wouldn't, having to return to the barracks to meet with her men, or needing to attend a meeting with other captains; something Gohan bears not questioning just because the way she talks about them isn't with much confidence.

Still, even though the company hasn't been entirely awful Gohan finds his mood sinking lower with each passing day. He misses home, his friends and family, and just the Earth in general. The thought wanes when a fist connects with his gut.

"You are not the most tactile, are you?" Captain Roarg comments when Gohan skids along the dirt, halting just at the tip of her well-polished boots. Rixas assesses his volley from afar and hoots.

"I did just fine against you last time," he retorts from the ground, patience pressed. She pulls him up and gives him a slap on the back as he stumbles away. The way she smirks still makes him uneasy. "Of course you're just going to say that you were holding back or something, right?"

Still on the other side of the clearing, Rixas lets out a low whistle. "Oh, someone's bitchy today."

And he is, and has been for the better part of a week and a half –especially since the Zealite incident, missing Earth or not. Every moment since has had the teenager on edge, and even with the captain around, Gohan feels uncomfortable. Quell's lasting words about the Zealites have impressed on him so deeply that Gohan finds himself looking around every corner before he walks, edging through doorways or simply just avoiding being alone unless in his room. Gohan is no coward but the idea of people stalking him just because they think he's some dead god; that's unnerving.

"Had I not been holding back you would not be here to tell the tale, my lord."

Gohan scoffs. _My lord_.

Rixas clearly loves the dynamic between the two, always eagerly grinning to himself like all his birthdays have come at once. Gohan had not long ago gotten used to Rixas' menacing behaviour but now he feels truly tested with another difficult person added to the fray, as though one wasn't bad enough.

"Do I need to put you to bed, little brother?" coos Rixas, making Gohan _really_ want to make the guy's head spin. "Are you being gwumpy?"

"I'm fine."

To her credit, Captain Roarg takes a step away to give him some breathing space, unlike a certain deity who decides that Gohan's personal space is now also his personal space and plops a head on the teenager's shoulder. Annoyingly, Gohan hadn't even seen the guy move –he'd been several feet away just seconds ago.

"Wanna' stop today?"

Grouchily, Gohan shoves away the unwelcome bird's nest. "I want you to move that boulder off of me."

"Ehhh, why are you being like that?"

The teenager sighs, scratching the back of his head as he glowers at the ground. The groove of his earlier impact etches deep into the layers of dirt as if bragging about the headache it's given him. His cranium throbs, pulsating on as he comes to realise that he may be letting this get at him a bit too much.

"I'm sorry," he eventually apologizes, "I don't mean to be… you know–"

"Cranky?"

Gohan spares Rixas a look, lips upturning wryly. "Sure, _that_. Maybe your last attack really did give me brain damage or something, I don't know."

The blond turns to the captain. "Roarg, can you give us a mo?"

She nods and bows her head towards both of them. Gohan catches her gaze and holds it for longer than intended, unable to decode whatever seems to be going through the woman's head.

"Mori," Rixas starts, uncharacteristically stern as he folds his arms and considers Gohan with mounting tension. The latter can see the cogs moving about as if they're weighing up how to approach something undesirable, a topic unwelcome. When Gohan tells him to just get to the point Rixas does just that. "I think you should try the serenity candle again."

The teenager recoils as if burned. "You're kidding, right?"

"You're clearly not making any progress with Doc Hezk, are you? You see her every other day but I can tell that you've uncovered jack."

Just what can Gohan say to that? It's true. Doctor Hezk has become increasingly more frustrated too, and this time it's not for the lack of trying. Gohan really has been attempting to get into his head but there's just nothing there. He's been telling everyone how they're all mistaken, how he's not Mori, and maybe now despite the one hiccup of using the serenity candle, they'll see how right Gohan's been all along.

"I can tell that you're getting all antsy," Rixas continues, "and you've pretty much hit a stalemate with how much you can do solo with the memories thing –at least for now. Why don't you just give it a go?"

"I don't do dru–"

The god gags before the teenager even finishes the sentence. "You want to go to Earth, right? You've been here a while now, and neither you nor us are satisfied with what you've done with the doctor, or rather, not done."

Gohan's expression sours. "When you say, _'us'_ you mean you and Quell, right?"

"And Doctor Jivel, I suppose. I think he expected better." It stings a little because he actually respects the doctor. "But maybe you should listen to yourself more, little brother, because I think you're your biggest critic here. You've been just wretched company as of recent, and whilst I know the Zealites attack has been one reason why, I do think part of that is a lack of progression with your memories too."

"That's a bit of stretch."

"Eh, is it? I don't know." The tone says otherwise and Gohan has to bite his tongue. "I think you've been getting equally as frustrated as Quell and I with the whole thing."

"And at what point do you accept that I'm not Mori?" Gohan then challenges. "When do you accept that I don't have any of these memories to speak of?"

Surprisingly, Rixas doesn't bring up the first usage of the serenity candle and the seeming epiphany he'd had. It's apparently not needed, because instead he leans forward and offers a fond pat of Gohan's cheek. "A week. If we've got no results in a week then I'll talk to Quell. How does that sound, _Go-haaan?_ "

Like the best option he's going to get.

 _Captain Roarg's right,_ he thinks as a Cheshire Cat gin faces him, _this fiend looks for any weakness and then goes for the kill._

* * *

The following morning, the smell of the candle makes the teenager queasy even deep into his trance. Doctor Hezk had attempted not to look too excited at the prospect of using the candle but Gohan had seen right through her –she'd practically bubbled in delight as she whipped out the long, thin stick.

The room has been coated in shadow as the heavy curtains have long since been shut. Only the atmospheric flicker of orange and yellow from the candle creates a dismal glow in the darkness. Doctor Hezk's voice drops to that soothing drawl as she guides him through the darkness, through the trance. It's hard to trust her after she'd tricked him last time but Gohan's in control now –he'd been the one to suggest the candle today. That alone gives him some comfort.

Before this, the weeks had zipped by with very little in regards to memory recollection. They'd talked about Gohan's childhood as is the standard, combing through the details so finely that he's sick of thinking about anything before the age of fifteen, and they'd talked about his plans and aims in the future. Strangely enough, that'd been even _harder_. Whilst Gohan knows that his plan is to go to university and study to become a scholar he oddly finds it difficult to talk about, as though after recounting all his childhood adventures he somehow feels shame in taking a normal path into adulthood. Gohan won't become an adventurer or, with the possibility of disappointing Rixas, a god any time soon. No, Gohan's going to become a scholar. Maybe, he might even get his teacher's qualification, who knows?

His lips press into a fine line. Gohan's future is set… yet why does it feel so empty?

Lavender teases under his nose and so the teenager blames that for these types of thoughts. The sickly aroma spurts through him, breaking his head open like a burst of fireworks going off, exploding chaotically as he tries to stay grounded. It's harsher than he remembered; making him so nauseous that he thinks the room is being spun on its head.

"Focus, Gohan," the doctor says through the dizzying perfume, "dig deep within yourself, unearth the truth lying dormant."

It's not for a lack of trying. The meditation anchors him only so much.

"I can't see anything," he manages, "it's all dark."

"Push past."

He twitches, "I can't."

Tides of swooping black course at him in a violent blows, one after the after the other until Gohan feels completely winded. This is the candle's fault, he knows it. He hates the thing with his entire being, he hates feeling so dizzy, so frazzled. It's like an undoing of him any time he smells that putrid stench.

"Deep breaths," she orders, voice soft. It grates on him.

Everything grates on him; the smell, her, this place, the darkness… He's so frustrated, so angry. He wants to go; he wants to quit… he… he—

He throws up.

* * *

It's normal, so he's told. Doctor Hezk had rubbed calming circles into his back as Gohan apologized and apologized. He'd been so horribly embarrassed. When was the last time he'd been sick like that? Eight? Nine? Gosh, he can't even remember. For the first time, Gohan cancels his training session with Rixas and spends the day in his bed, sleeping off the nausea and trying to focus his mind away from the ever-stretching darkness.

The next day offers even less in fruition. Instead of feeling sick Gohan just develops a headache and demands the candle to be removed. The space between his temple pounds long after the doctor leaves him, and again, he spends another day in bed.

Day three of using the serenity candle is an interesting day indeed. The black corridor of his mind contorts into ugly splotches of rebelling colour, amplifying, and etching into Gohan's core as he tries to understand them. When he approaches an off-shade orange the moment is rudely broken by a scream in real life, one emitting from Doctor Hezk as a swarm of fiery ki surrounds them. After the flames are put out, Gohan does go to train with Rixas and the captain that day, crabbier and "bitchier" than usual especially when asked about the smell of smoke coming from his attire.

The fourth day has Doctor Hezk arrive with even less sureness than usual. She eyes the darkened patch on the floor from where the worst of the fire had been, frowning with distaste as she sets the candle up once again. She's brave, Gohan'll give her that.

Luckily, he doesn't cause another fire today. The colours against the shadow go on in their merry dance as the teenager focuses on the doctor's voice, on her guidance into the depths of the unknown, moving past the dangers of orange and into a spectrum indescribable thought. The lavender is the backdrop to the journey, a journey which, yet again, comes up empty. The teenager wakes from the stupor when the doctor has to shake him out of it. She'd even looked a bit worried, something which unsettles Gohan long after he goes to bed that night.

The fifth day, a day marked by Gohan's growing confidence that he'd been right all along, is to be derailed so dramatically that it changes the course of his existence for good.

It starts as normal as the others, ending the session with Doctor Hezk leaving his chambers as despondent as usual. The door shuts behind her, and yet again, Gohan's usual blistering headache has him cancel the training with Rixas and the captain. When it proves too difficult to sleep he finds a new and sudden urge to take a bath. Strange if only because Gohan can take or leave a bath, finding showers to be more convenient and never really appreciating the art of soaking in a tub. Wrinkly fingers and lukewarm water… Eugh.

But he follows his gut and runs himself a bath. He uses Mori's massive tub –or pool, really– because the en-suite runs impossibly big, extending out with large and open windows looking out into the forest. The view is impressive and Gohan finds himself appreciating it as the suds ease his skin, imprinting soft aromas and making him feel more spoiled than he's ever felt in his entire life.

_We lived very different lives, Mori._

Whilst Gohan grew up in a modest home, Mori had luxuries galore. His chamber is bigger than the Son house alone, and is filled with priceless gems and elaborate clothes. The books alone are probably worth more than all the possessions his family owns –he knows fancy books when he sees them, and see them does he as he's found himself skimming through the books on a day-to-day basis, still lost as the written scribbles swirl around one another with their secrets.

He sinks lower into the bathtub as the lilac sky fades into something murkier, signing for little droplets of rain to start splattering against the window. It's moody… just like how Gohan's feeling.

How long has he been away from home now? Seven weeks –eight? He's starting to lose track, and every day here has him slowly forget what it's like to live his normal Earth life. And worse of all, it makes him question if he's ever going to go back at all whether or not this… _misunderstanding_ is cleared up. Will they just let him go back to Earth, let him go home and be with his family, be with Videl?

Despite knowing her the least, he finds it's her company he misses the most; those quiet and comfortable study sessions, those dates they'd share together in the mountains. He'd planned on showing Videl his and Piccolo's waterfall when the weather warmed up. It would be just the two of them (after he'd shake Goten off of their tail), and there he'd probably set up camp for the night so they can explore the surrounding caves and hike through the mountains. Videl's sporty like that. He likes that they can share in nature together.

…Will that happen again?

Gohan presses his eyes closed and sinks until completely submerged. The black returns and he just can't get the smell of lavender from out of his brain. A rush of queasiness yields when he remembers the first time he'd used the candle; the memory of his dad's gi.

_He watches it as it grows smaller with distance. It's moving away from him, the Turtle insignia growing miniscule as it shrinks and shrinks into obscurity._

His eyes open, and a long breath leaves him.

"What do I do now, Dad?"

* * *

After the bath, he's in an even worse mood despite the headache finally fading away. Normally, with his spare time Gohan likes to clear away some of Mori's clutter because the entire space is a death trap. Books have been strewn everywhere, pencils and pens alike erratic in their piles on the floor –really, did the guy have to be such a slob? Even though Mori has been remembered as one of those genius-types, something Gohan can see with the mountains of reading, the teenager is still mighty unimpressed with how he'd lived. Cleanliness is next to godliness, indeed…

Gohan had long since tidied up the worst of it, yet the bookshelves still need a keen eye. He examines some of the spines he recognizes, the ones filled with pictures and diagrams; books which are easily devoured just because he doesn't need the ability to read Lanit-Tongue. Pictures of beasts, aliens, monsters and everything in between glare up from their respective pages, enticing him to stare more, but stare he doesn't because the right sector isn't going to organize itself. So he slots the book in the Living Creatures section, and then turns to the Astrology collection, angry because clearly Mori preferred these stars on the floor instead of the shelves.

Time passes and he can't say that he's having a bad time. A lot of the pictures are made up of beautiful illustrations, bumpy to the touch and earthy to smell. The printing ink is oddly divine. As much of a bookworm he is Gohan does find it just a little strange to be getting excited over a press-print –he slides the book into the Chemical-Warfare section and moves on.

Along the pictures in one book, the text reads about the history of the estate and the beauty of the surrounding land. Gohan is quick to become enamoured in it, swallowing the information like a man dying of hunger as he learns more and more about the realm. It speaks of creatures found in the forest, of the temples, of the ancient buildings, of the wars taken place there, of the—

He stops, the book dropping to the floor.

What the-

_N-No…_

…Gohan's _reading_.

Scrambling, he picks up the book and sure enough, he finds that it's most certainly not written in any Earth language he knows, but instead the swirling characters of Lanit-Tongue.

"Oh," he squeaks. "Oh god."

_This is impossible. This can't be happening._

It _is_ happening, and to Gohan's abject horror he can understand every book he next comes into contact with. His wonderful job in tidying up is abruptly ruined as he rifles through rows of books, spines and pages flying through the air as he finds that he is able to read _everything_. He now recognizes that, whilst messy, the books had been ordered in categories depending on genre and age. The knowledge infuriates him for some reason, drives him to such frustration that he tears down an entire bookcase.

A grunt leaves him as he kicks at the wood. Gohan isn't supposed to be able to read Lanit-Tongue! Gohan isn't supposed to know about anything of this!

 _I'm not_ him.

He breathes hard, feeling manic as he watches the dust lower like snowfall. With the layers of grey falls something a bit bigger, but still small and wispy to the touch. Gohan snatches the fleeting thing, crumpling it accidently when he feels the thin, papery material.

After forcing himself to calm down, he gingerly unfolds the paper and within seconds things go from bad to worse. Deep down, somewhere so deep and ignored, Gohan knows this to be Mori's handwriting.

_Quell's watching from the Winter Pavilion. It's only time._

It's only time? What's only time? Gohan's hand is shaking as he regards the note, because he remembers that Mori had been _murdered_ , remembers when Rixas had warned him at the bar, remembers that he's not allowed access to Earth.

He stashes the note away and turns on his heel, fleeing Mori's –or rather, his– room. Memories or not, Gohan's done. He wants absolutely nothing to do with any of this. A constraint on his chest tightens and the feeling of panic descends, a bizarre claustrophobia making him see only through tunnel-vision as he tears out of the estate and into the green depths of the forest. When running isn't enough, Gohan flies. He doesn't care what the captain or anyone else thinks of him.

Gohan just needs to get away.

He passes signs, signs he can now read. One arrow pointing left tells a name of a place the teenager's never heard of, and the one pointing right is simply labelled _'Spire Grounds'._

_How do I get out of here?_

And then he remembers that this is a _realm_ , never once has it been referred to as a planet. Is this place separate from where Earth is –from the universe?

 _Yes_ , a cool voice in the back of his head hums.

He swipes a hand through his hair, frantic. Getting back to Earth is near impossible, isn't it? And even if he manages it then Quell will follow him there too, and just what would he do there? He'd not only kill Gohan but also his friends and family too…

"Euughhh…"

Gohan palms at his eyes, rubbing them hard. Maybe if he rubs hard enough the gold will disappear and everything will go back to normal. All this started when his eyes changed, when that _stupid_ tree spoke to him. Yeah, it's all that tree's fault—

Suddenly, Gohan feels the pinprick scratch at the centre of his throat. His eyes open and he finds himself looking into the faceless abyss of a shadow. And between Gohan and the shadowy figure sits a thin blade aimed into his neck.

"Don't move," the Zealite warns, whispering.

On principle, Gohan growls but he doesn't move. His eyes thin as the _thing_ regards him with longing interest. The blade tilts and Gohan with it.

"Can you read the sign?" it then asks.

Gohan looks between the Zealite and the sign, anxiety growing. He's always been a rotten liar, so he doesn't answer and instead just glowers. As soon as Gohan's given the chance he's going to knock that blade awry and punch the shadowy creep through a tree.

" _Can you read the sign?"_ it repeats, tone harsher, but there's something off about it. When it says the sentence again does Gohan realise the Zealite is actually speaking in Lanit-Tongue.

Disturbed, he grinds his teeth and looks away –but the damage is done, and so the Zealite repositions the blade, but before anything worse can happen, anything else to remind Gohan how much of mess this all is, the Zealite brusquely dives left. Or at least, that's what he thinks.

In a trail of smoke, Gohan notices tumbled figure of the Zealite smattered in the forest's filth. It sticks to it regardless of the smoke-like mass making up the body, creating a paragon between earth and ethereal amongst clouds of grey.

Beyond that stands a new person, tall and poised behind a disconcerting mask, one which makes Gohan think of a traditional Kabuki mask dip-dyed a fiendish red. Black jets along the side and under the eyes, hiding under a pair of flashing gold. The rest of the person's silhouette is coated in a shower of smoke of its own, occasional flashes of red lightning whirring beneath the surface.

The person seems to have very little business with Gohan because it wastes no time in stalking over to the Zealite and picking him up. The teenager steps away, back against the sign, watching on in revulsion as the masked individual plies the Zealite upwards and proceeds to _rip_ the being in two.

"Stop it!" the teenager calls, "Stop it!"

But it's too late. Gohan's never seen such brutality, feeling the bile in his stomach stir as the crunching of bones and spurt of blood cry into the empty sky. If the Zealite had made any noise then Gohan hadn't heard it, probably because of the screaming in his own head to stop this, the screaming telling him to _run_. But Gohan does neither.

Horrified, he stands there and watches.

_There are monsters everywhere._

Finally, the masked person throws both pieces of the Zealite into a shadowy lump on the ground before turning his attention to Gohan. Instinct rife, Gohan raises both fists and readies himself for the worst.

And the worst is what he gets.

The person then waves a hand over the mask, stealing the black and clearing the red away. When the smoke and lightning disappears Gohan's left gawping. His stance drops, but his feet pull him backwards.

"N-No."

_Monsters everywhere…_

"Mori, are you okay?" asks the newly revealed Rixas. The golden light of his eyes burn with compassion, but Gohan can still hear the crunch of bones, the squelch of blood. When Rixas moves forward, the teenager recedes. "Did he hurt you? What's wrong?"

Gohan's head pounds again. The disgust wells up in him, simmers like bad food, rotting and poisoning him from within. When Rixas tries again, tries to grab his arm, Gohan does the only thing his body allows him to do; he reacts.

His arm pistons so fast and with such force that he's sure the echo of the punch can be heard for miles around. Rixas takes the hit across the left side of his face and so flies right with great velocity. It's a hell of a punch, stronger than anything Gohan's delivered thus far, and enough to even surprise Rixas and knock him well out of eyeshot.

The teenager groans into the cusp of his hands.

_What kind of hell is this? You're all monsters –even you, Rixas!_

Gohan then takes back to the sky. The stretch of evening is upon him now, chasing him as he dashes in blue light across the horizon. He doesn't know where he's going, only that he has to move, and that the more space between him and the Estate the better. At some point during the flight, the nausea had escalated into full-blown sickness, and Gohan is forced to stop to relinquish his stomach of its contents.

 _I'm not Mori_ , he internally repeats over and over as the bile pours free. His lungs scream at him as he hacks up more than what he can, and Gohan wants to scream along with them, and so he does.

"I'm not him!" he bellows out over the surrounding fields. Only the grass and some surrounding birds are around to listen, darkened by the setting evening sun beyond the clouds. "I'm _not_ Mori!"

He's panting hard, still winded from throwing up, and tired from the impressive ground he must have covered in flying here. His chest tightens with a stitch, and so he lowers himself to grass. Gohan threads the blades between his fingers with a bowed head, willing himself calm.

"I just want to go home," he mumbles so pathetically, painfully so, enough that he feels his throat constrict.

Just why is this happening to him? Gohan doesn't want this –he isn't special, not like this. He doesn't care about godly affairs, about powers. If it was up to Gohan he'd just get rid of the lot of it; he has zero interest in being a part of any divine system. All Gohan wants to do is be with his family!

He thumps a fist against the ground and in retaliation, the world shakes. It shudders continually as Gohan bashes fist after fist into the pulverised dirt. There's one final punch, one so catalytic that something deep within him even rattles.

Breathing ragged, he presses his head against the beaten soil.

_I'm a monster too._

His eyes, golden –he knows– close when a threat of wetness appears. He stays like that for a short while, until he feels a gust of wind tickle at his hair, something which at least makes him peer up. Gohan expects to see Rixas there, or maybe even Quell. What he doesn't expect to is to see that _bloody_ tree.

Gohan's up and on his feet in a flash, miniscule in front of the magnificent ivory branches as it looms on eternally into the heavens. He hadn't noticed but does now that trails of cerulean flowers lead up to the tree, almost like a pathway; stunning and perfumed with something addictive. Breathing feels good, and not horribly heavy like his last experience with the Ivory Tree.

Even now, gazing upon its majesty doesn't plough Gohan down with the pressure he'd originally experienced. In its place is a peculiar lightness, something wholesome and fulfilling like a full meal on a winter day, like his mother welcoming him in from the snow with a warm drink. It's like walking through one's own front door. So, he treads up to the tree and the branches shine a sparkling silver in rejoice. Zigzags of gold strip down from all sides in symmetrical glee as Gohan takes his place at the base of the trunk.

" _Does it hurt you to look upon me still?"_ it questions.

Gohan shakes his head, awestruck. _"No, it doesn't."_

Silence follows until a new streak of silver flashes beneath the bark. Finally, the Ivory Tree continues, _"It is due time to accept your duty."_

Another flutter of wind blows past, gifting Gohan another dose of the flowery aroma. It's sweet and makes his stomach flip. His head becomes hazy from it, obsessively wanting more as the scent fades.

" _Duty?"_ the teenager parrots unintelligibly.

" _You are a son of the Almighty, a shepherd to lead the masses to a new dawn. My child, you are my fourth God of Revelation; of Death -and of, most importantly_ – _of Revolution."_

Gohan's winded. The information steals his very breath, and so he drops to a knee. _"It's… surely not."_

" _You can gaze upon my splendour, and you know deep within yourself what you must achieve. No more can you hide from your one true path, Mori of Revelation. The Gods of Revelation before you gave their lives in order for you to continue their journey. Born from their ashes you stand. Born from their trials and tribulations, you are ready to carve your own path in the name of the Almighty. Born from godhood, you must stand true. Your skin has long since been shed, and snake you are no more, my son."_

The teenager peers up and the gold he sees within Rixas and Quell, and even within himself, flashes from the tree. The ivory encapsulates the royal shimmer as the warmth basks over Gohan.

He understands now.

Manic breath hitches. _"…You're the Almighty, aren't you?"_

" _I am all and everything. I am the ground you stand on, I am the air you breathe, I am even the sins you make for I am foundation of life itself. And you, Mori of Revelation, are a vessel for my will, my will for change and development of all the universes and of all the realms. This is what it means to be who you are."_

Gohan brings a hand to his mouth, biting at his knuckle, terrified. This is not what he wants –not who he is—

" _This is your destiny,"_ continues the Almighty, having clearly interpreted Gohan's personal thoughts. _"This is your honour."_

" _My family,"_ Gohan dares defy, _"What about my_ – _"_

That's when the pressure makes its reappearance. It pushes down so ferociously that Gohan falls down flat to his face, head wedged in the perfumed flowerbed as the onslaught grows stronger and stronger still. It's just like Quell's, Gohan realises –except harsher, more pure, and so painfully intense. The squeezing of his body makes him scream; an experience which can be matched by nothing else imaginable, and something that hurts Gohan in a place within he never knew existed until now.

And at a time as worse as any, _that_ memory returns to him; the one garnered from the serenity candle the first time round.

It's his dad again, leaving him.

_He watches it as it grows smaller with distance. It's moving away from him, the Turtle insignia growing miniscule as it shrinks and shrinks into obscurity._

Gohan wants to follow but his legs won't cooperate. They're thickly cemented down at the base of the tree, and he's dizzy from the pressure and from the wonderful perfume. It makes him wobble where he lies as if he's drunk.

The Almighty continues once more.

" _Your family are your brothers, and your duty is to them and to the Great Cause. You are to lead the next generation, and you are to bring new life. It matters not under what pretence you do this. Gohan Son may be your mortal charade but the spirit is within you."_

The teenager stares.

" _Understand that there is no escaping the obligation to be carried, my child._

_This is your fate._

_You are but not a snake nor a sheep, you are a leader._

_Now… be gone."_

* * *

"Wake up, Mori. C'mon, get up. You're freaking me out."

_Rixas?_

"Mori –baby brother—come on, _please_."

When his eyes open the first thing he sees a pair of golden lights. They're so bright that they nearly blind him, shining against the black night sky. Gohan knows what they are right away, knows that he has a pair to match. When his eyesight finally adjusts he can make out the blanket of stars hanging in the background behind Rixas, the man who's currently cradling him like an infant.

The forest behind is a mismatched collection of black shapes, lonely except for the noises of the local night creatures.

" _Mori_ ," the man repeats, this time relieved. "Thank God. Oh, heavens. Fuck. Mori… I thought – after last time –you weren't breathing and I…"

Gohan pulls himself out of Rixas' hold. The memory of what the man did is still with him, but right now he just can't bring himself to even care. The only reminder is the darkened patch of skin atop the upper lip. It's swollen and looks like it hurts to touch. How Gohan managed it he has no idea.

Rixas sighs, shuddering as he watches Gohan figure out their surroundings. Never has someone looked so relieved.

"Brother… I thought–"

"I spoke with the Almighty," he then interrupts the god, voice weak, "and I…" His brows furrow, and the next bit chokes him. "I… think I understand, but…"

"Mori…"

Gohan's hands run through his hair again and again, desperate in motion. His emotions jump from one to ten in a matter of seconds. "Rixas… It told me about Revelation and…" he swallows, words decaying "I'm scared. I don't want to do this. I want to go back… I… "

Anguished, the teenager lowers into a tight ball. His knees knock against his chin and for the first time in a long time, he lets go. He truly lets go. Tears run rampant down his cheeks as raw sobs rip from the back of his throat.

"I'm ne-never going to Earth again," Gohan tells Rixas, voice hoarse, "I-I'm never going to see any of them ever again, am I?"

Rixas doesn't answer, instead kneeling into the dirt and bringing the teenager's head to rest on his chest. He's silent as Gohan cries and cries until he's completely spent, slowly running a hand up and down Gohan's back like Gohan would do for Goten. If anything, the action makes it all hurt more.

" _Your family are your brothers, and your duty is to them."_

_Just… who am I?_

Gohan looks up at Rixas' impassive face, and then closes his eyes. He presses his face into his brother's chest and he wills his own to stop hurting.

* * *

As the years start to pass, the pain never really lessens, but Gohan does grow stronger in spite of it.


	9. The Elephant in the Room

**Age 780**

**Mount Paozu, Earth**

It hadn't been Goten's intention to return to The Mausoleum after storming out last weekend, but by Monday morning he'd come to discover something rather frustrating. His Maths book had somehow gone missing. He'd searched through his bag, around his bedroom at Fire Mountain, and in his locker about five times. So when all came up empty, Goten concedes that a week of his mother's nagging and detention isn't worth avoiding the Son house. He knows that's where he last had it, and so straight after school, he takes to the skies in the long flight back to 439 Mountain Area to look for his blasted arithmetic homework.

The journey would have probably been unbearable if not for two things. One, Goten knows that his dad would certainly not be home during the day. And two, the companionship.

Two pairs of trainers touch down in front of the old Son family home.

"Man, the garden looks like a jungle," Trunks comments upon noticing the lawn's rebellion. "I can't even see a pathway to the house."

He's right. The dense concoction of grass reaches Goten's midsection now. Goten would have blasted it clean already if not for spotting a small army of hedgehogs sleeping in the bristles one morning. Still, he knows his mum would riot if she saw the state of the yard.

They make their way through the weeds, grunting and groaning. Goten hopes the squishy thing he'd just stood in isn't what he thinks it is.

Trunks groans. "Man, has your dad never heard of a strimmer?"

" _I've_ never heard of a strimmer."

"It's to cut grass, dumbass."

"That's a lawnmower."

"They're two different things." His friend stumbles and there's a gagging sound. " _Ugh maaan_ , something just crunched under my shoe. I felt it. I don't know what it was but it crunched. God, I _hate_ the country."

Trying not to laugh, Goten fumbles around for his key when they do eventually reach the front door.

"Next time, we fly over that," Trunks insists.

It's an unnecessary thing to say if only because after today Goten doesn't plan on coming back. The door opens to reveal a familiar state of affairs. Blood splatters trail down the hallway and lumps of orange gis pile along the walls –dirty and used- as a stale stench fills the air. When they reach the kitchen Trunks physically recoils at the rolls of used bandages atop the table.

"I actually think it's worse than usual," Goten then says. His gaze flitters over the bags of rubbish stacked in the corner. How his dad had managed that over the course of two days is lost on him.

"Eugh, imagine if our dads were housemates," Trunks puts out there, disgusted. Between his finger and thumb he examines a questionable bag of rice. Goten swears he sees movement within. "Thank God mum doesn't let our place get like this. What happened to the cleaner? They quit again?"

"Wouldn't _you_ quit?" Goten sighs, sparing the room one last glance. "This is so gross that even Videl refuses to come out this way anymore."

"No, she stopped coming because it takes her a million hours to fly here in her jetcopter."

"And, uh," Goten coughs, "I don't think she's keen on my dad."

Trunks hums. "I get it. He's… well, he's _a lot_ , isn't he? Intense."

"Worse now than he used to be apparently, although Krillin said that he's always been one-track minded… I… uh, I don't really remember much of how he was before you _know_."

Trunks does know. His expression darkens.

"My dad said that all saiyans are driven by the urge to become stronger. Maybe when _that_ happened it triggered something in your dad's head?"

Goten shrugs. He doubts it but who's he to say what goes on in his dad's head? "Whatever the case, Videl is right. My dad is going too far one way. He's… he's not right."

His friend pats him on the shoulder with a hearty slap. "The guy's still being eaten up by it. You can't let it get you too. Videl doesn't. Your mum's even getting better. Life goes on but your dad just didn't get that memo. Whilst you, your mum, Videl and her guy-friend have dinner next week, just know that you're actually living… and not just existing in this pit of a house."

Something about that sends a shockwave of discomfort through him. Goten pulls away with an unbearable urge to escape the kitchen. Even the bandages become too much to look at. "C'mon, let's go to my room. I don't want to hang around here longer than I have to."

"Your book is definitely not around this…" Trunks drops the rice, uncertain on how to proceed, "sty?"

Goten snorts and scratches at the back of his head. "If it is then it's dead to me."

So they go upstairs, avoiding various pitfalls of discarded obis and undershirts, and make their way to Goten's old room. Trunks is the nosey sort, that friend who always wants to stick his beak where it doesn't belong, so Goten has to drag him away from his dad's room when curiosity raises its head.

"Oh, c'mon, Goten, who knows what's in there?"

He angles them away and in the direction of his own room. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"I'd wager no disinfectant, that's for sure."

Actually, Goten had peaked a while ago and he'd found the reality calmingly boring. Whilst the rest of the house, spare the two other bedrooms, can be found in a varying quality of horror, his dad's bedroom always looked… the same. The bed had been made and his clothes had been either on the wooden chair beside the bed or in the wardrobe. Even the picture frames around the room had been dust free.

Odd… It'd been odd to say the least to see. And the few times after, he'd noticed that nothing had changed; no dirt build up, _no_ anything. Dad always maintained that one room… well, that one and one other. Goten acknowledges the door next to his with lingering discomfort. Even the door handle remains shiny, as though it's the one thing in this blasted place which actually sees polish.

He surprises even himself when his fingers graze over the metallic coolness of it. Goten's not been in this room for a long time, maybe years now. It's the one space that feels truly foreign to him in this hole, making the idea of going in feel kind of naughty in its own way. Something which is strange considering only a thin wall separates this room and his own. A few inches of plaster and paint really does make all the difference, he supposes.

He _could_ go in. He _could_. Goten's fingers tickle along the handle. Wouldn't this be goodbye?

"Er… I'll look in your room," Trunks squeaks, before disappearing behind Goten's door with impeccable speed, as if the room suctioned him in there itself.

And so, without further ado, Goten twists the knob and enters his brother's old room.

It's exactly as Goten remembers it. Two intimidating bookshelves packed to the brim (with literature far beyond him) towering over a neatly preserved desk, one harbouring not even a scrap of paper out of line. Assorted pens and pencils poke out from a pot sitting in the corner. Knowing no better, they lie, loyally waiting to be scribbled along whatever homework would happen to grace the desk.

And a lot of homework had graced that desk once upon a time. Goten can recall sitting on the modest bed in the corner and listening to the scratching of graphite along paper for hours on end.

Turning, he admires the white linen atop the bed with a brush of the fingers. It's been changed in the last time he'd seen this room –probably his mother's doing back when she used to live here. The covers before had been a light blue and patterned in a pale tartan… well, they _had_ been until…

 _Until you died_.

Goten forces his eyes closed, and a familiar throb pulses in his head as he tries not to dwell.

His brother is gone and that's that.

Yet his quiet personality practically screams of the presence, and Goten's reminded over and over again that his brother had been a person, had been alive and was an integral part of his life. How strange to think now years later that Goten had once not been an only child. His brother… his brother had been…

Goten breathes and sits on the bed.

_Gohan had been a selfish idiot._

Really, in the end why does Goten still dwell so much on someone who carelessly ruined their entire family? His death marked something new for all of them, marked something new for Goten who'd only known his brother as his hero.

Gohan Son had been his hero, and now…

A knock sounds at the door, and bleary eyed, Goten watches in silence as his best friend enters the room. Trunks can't help but let his gaze drift to the empty space besides Goten's feet, the reserved area where they'd found _the body_.

"You doing okay?" Trunks asks tentatively. "You've been in here a while."

"Have I?" Goten swipes at his nose and blinks the tears away. For the amount of times Trunks has seen him cry it's still such a wonder why Goten feels any embarrassment at all.

"I… uh, I found your homework by the way." He awkwardly flashes his find in an abysmal sort of flourish. "So… whenever you're ready. We don't need to go now or anything-" he quickly adds when Goten goes to rise, "just, y'know, whatever."

"It's kinda' weird in here anyway."

"A bit," his friend agrees, but then takes a seat next to Goten in spite of it. "But it's probably better than the rest of the house. At least in here it doesn't stink of mouldy bandages."

Goten manages a laugh. "I think he'd hate it to be dirty in his room."

"I think he'd hate the house being a mess period. Your dad should stop being such a slob, or at least stop making the cleaners quit."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I bet he'd knock your dad upside the head and tell him to get the dustpan and brush."

Goten breathes a giggle. "No way, Gohan would just do it himself."

"You're right. He was far too nice a guy."

"I guess…"

A whistle draws out. "Oh man, that's a lot of books on those shelves." Trunks comments upon noticing the collection. He then sighs and sprawls back against the sheets. "I forgot how much of a nerd he was."

"He wasn't a nerd," Goten defends, and flops down besides his friend. Trunks snorts but doesn't argue back -which is even worse in Goten's books.

He then breathes out a long gust of air and stares up. The ceiling above is finally starting to show signs of damp, Goten notices, and he can't help but wonder how long it'll be until the room is lost to it. His dad won't know what to do, or won't care. In fact, if Goten was a betting man he'd wager that by the time Goten finishes high school his dad will have moved into his grandfather's hut.

_The sooner this house goes the better._

_Right?_

"Hey, Goten?"

"Mm?"

"What… uh… what do you think Gohan would think about Videl getting… y'know-" _Married._

Goten feels his gaze darken by several shades. "He'd hate it, obviously."

"Uh, yeah… Obviously." Trunks shuffles, and Goten just knows the guy must be dying to say something.

"What? _What?_ "

"No, it's nothing."

" _Trunks_."

His friend sits up. "Would he though? I mean, Videl has been single since forever."

"As far as we know."

"As far as we know, sure, but like, shouldn't she finally start seeing other guys?"

"Are we really going to discuss this in my dead brother's room?"

Trunks pouts and shoves his hands into his pockets after climbing off of the bed. The sheets lay disorderly in his wake and it takes a lot for Goten to try and not immediately fix them.

"I think he'd hate it," Goten continues, "it's betrayal, right?"

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"It's been six years, man. You gotta' let go -you don't wanna' end up like your old man, right? Just holding onto stuff that's gone."

"Videl isn't gone," he snaps. The urge to neaten the bed overcomes him, and so he jumps up and fixes the bedding with a domestic urgency only rivalled by his mother. He tucks in the duvet, practically spitting. "She's still around. I see her more than I see my stupid dad these days." The cotton threatens to tear when he pulls at it. "So what? She'll get married to some mystery person and go on with her merry life?"

"Well, uh, yeah. That's it, I guess."

"She should be marrying my brother!"

"She can't marry him if he's six feet under, can she?"

Goten drops the fabric. " _Trunks!_ "

"Well, it's true, right?" He huffs, and there's a beat of silence between them. Surprisingly, it takes very little time for Trunks to register that he went too far, and he says as much, but also; "he's not here now, Goten."

Goten nods and rubs the bridge of his nose. He _knows_ that. God, does he ever.

"I'm glad the dragon balls don't work," he then chuckles humourlessly, "because if he was ever brought back I think I'd kill him. He's completely… _fucked_ this family up. He's fucked me up."

"Goten…"

"No, he has." Goten has to sit down again. His legs feel like jelly. "I don't get it. I don't get _why_."

Trunks audibly swallows. "I don't know."

Finally, Goten's gaze trails over to that empty space on the floor –the place where the body had been discovered, the place that had to be cleaned so thoroughly that Goten could still smell bleach days later.

Goten never saw the blood, but he knew it must have been there.

I don't think… I don't think I can ever forgive him," he then spits. "Suicide is the most selfish thing you could do to anyone."

Trunks' hand brushes over his shoulder.

"I hate him," Goten then continues because it'd be impossible to stop now anyway, "I hate him so much yet I still…" His throat squeezes, snuffing out the words. "I miss him. I hate what he's done but I just want him home."

Trunks rubs his shoulder when the last of his resolve finally breaks. And when he sobs; ugly, wet things which wrangle his throat until it hurts, Trunks stays with him. He stays with him until Goten can't cry anymore.

They'd come for homework, but in the end they both leave with something far weightier than maths equations.

* * *

**Age 780,** **(A couple days earlier)**

**Mount Paozu, Earth**

_My son did not commit suicide._

Goku Son tells himself this every day - _every_ single day when he gets up and gets ready for another ritualistic training session. Naturally, the sentiment has pushed people away. There's evidence, they say. It's obvious, they say. But Goku knows his son. He knows Gohan wouldn't have done that. Gohan was stronger than _that_.

Which only leaves one conclusion; he'd been murdered.

And Goku is not about to let his son's murder go unresolved.

It's another sunny day, as is usually the case in August, and so Goku decides not to layer too many weighted clothes today. The humidity will tire him out enough as it is and he can't afford to overstrain his body. He always needs to be in tiptop shape.

When he leaves the house that morning it's not without the feeling of harbouring a heavy burden. Yesterday with Goten had been…

He cracks his neck, straining.

_Well, it had been just really awful._

Goku hadn't meant to hurt Goten. Never in a million years would he dream of hurting his kids on purpose, not outside of training –not in the way that he'd hurt Goten at any rate. Jeez, he hadn't meant it to go like that. It's just… Goku _knows_ that Goten can do more –he just needs pushing. It'd been exactly the same with Gohan. Sure, Gohan had been a touch more willing, especially when younger, but Goku knows Goten could be great. Goten's stubbornness aside, there's talent.

Still, Goku had apologized, had told Goten that he will try harder –be better, be more considerate, yet it hadn't been enough. And Goku knows how it'd looked when the Supreme Kai had dragged him away. Goku knows that he's, yet again, let down his second son.

_But not as much as I've let you down, Gohan._

For such a long time Goku's had nightmares. It's always of the same thing, and is more of a flashback than a nightmare. It's always of Gohan, of finding him like he had, slumped on the floor, drenched in blood with eyes wide and unseeing. The blade had only been steps away from him, with prints of red in its trail as though you could see the path it'd taken when it must have been dropped. Goku tries to shake his son but his fingers pass through the body each time he reaches for him. When he calls his name Goku's voice is so hoarse that no sound comes out whatsoever. Cemented to the prison of his vision, Goku can only watch as Gohan bleeds out again and again and again…

There's no way. Gohan wouldn't have left him to see that –he wouldn't have chanced Goten seeing that. Gohan would have never committed suicide. No, Goku's sure of it, he's sure that there's not a chance in hell that Gohan would leave them willingly.

It's clear as day to him.

_Gohan was killed._

_Gohan was killed and I need to find out who did this. I need to find out who took away my son._

And whilst Goku is so absolutely sure of this he finds that he's actually rather lonely in his opinion. _They're wrong_ , he thinks with resolution. Even with their strained expressions and baseless facts, Goku knows that Gohan would never have done this.

As Goku does every morning, he goes and visits Gohan's allocated space to pay his respects. It's under the shade of a humble oak where they'd decided to place Gohan's remains. He'd been cremated and then scattered around the trunk until the wind spread the ashes ever further. Goku remembers the day well. It'd been cold and so bitter that they'd needed to wrap Goten up so tightly that he'd resembled a bundle of laundry more than a child. Together, they'd watched as Gohan was laid to rest. He can't say it was a beautiful ceremony, or warm and full of love –Goku just remembers hurting and feeling so _full_ of confused fury.

Still, it's peaceful here now. Flowers have even bloomed in the area around. So, Goku dubs this spot as Gohan's garden. They'd even allocated a small grave there for him.

"Good morning," he tells it cheerfully, "It's hot today too, huh?" He kneels beside the stone and gives it a fond pat. "I think we're due for some rain though. It's been getting hotter and hotter for weeks now. I think it'll do the forest some good, don't you?"

Gohan's grave remains as quiet as ever but Goku likes to imagine what Gohan would say –he likes to imagine that somewhere his son is okay, and that he'd speak with Goku if he could. He pauses, remembering his son's sunburnt face one July.

"…Though you never liked it too hot, I don't mind," Goku continues, "but it sure makes training difficult some days but that's just summer for you, I guess"

The sun gleams from the rim of the stone and Goku smiles. The carved inscription stands bold in contrast, dark and stark in eyesight.

_Gohan Son_

_Always shining brightly_

_Forever a star_

Goku didn't pick the words because if he did then he wouldn't have picked any words at all. He wouldn't have bothered with a grave either. He's glad Chi-Chi had insisted now. He'd been so _angry_ and scared and full of frustration that he'd not really been of any use at the time.

Gohan had been the strongest person in the universe…

_How did they do it?_

_How did they get you whilst you were sleeping, Gohan?_

_I don'_ _t understand!_

The moment Goku had found Gohan like he had he'd transformed with such golden anguish that the house had nearly collapsed. He'd circled the area, shouting, screaming, hunting the person who'd dared do this to his son. In the end, he'd found no-one. There'd been no villain lurking, no evil hiding under their noses… there'd been no-one.

And that's when everyone decided it must have been suicide.

" _I know you don't like hearing it, Goku," Bulma had said, "but all the facts point one way. The dragon balls didn't work, there'd been no-one else around, nobody had sensed anything… and… the wounds, they'd clearly been… self-inflicted."_

_Piccolo had agreed that Gohan would have never done that, for a while._

_And then his tone changed too. "When the facts are in our face then who are we to ignore them? I refuse to be delusional. What Gohan did was selfish. He betrayed us all."_

_Goku had argued and argued, and Bulma had even involved a coroner._

" _When a person takes their life through stabbing it's known for them to usually remove their clothes first," the coroner had informed. "Your son had been found bare-chested, right, Mr. Son?"_

_Even Krillin had turned against him in the end. "You need to accept it, Goku. Gohan… he… did it."_

_But Goku hadn't accepted it –still doesn't. Gohan would have never done this._

_Why can't anyone else see this?_

_Gohan, you were the strongest. You…_

A rapt urge to hit something takes him, but the only thing he could take it out on is the grave and Goku refuses to so much as chip it.

Instead, he breathes hard and forces a smile.

"…I-I saw a herd of deer yesterday. They didn't run when they saw me which is kinda' strange. I wonder if it's because they've never seen a person before."

Goku laughs shakily. "A bit like me. I don't see many people out here these days. Your brother comes, of course, and then there's Piccolo. Oh, and the Supreme Kai -he came too. He actually needs my help with something."

He waits, wondering. Gohan had worked with the Supreme Kai too.

"I'm gonna' help him 'cause that's the right thing to do. You get it, right?"

 _Of course you do._ Goku smiles, but it's quick to die.

"…I've been training a whole lot, you know. As usual, the others think I'm overdoing it but I think you'd get it if you were in my shoes. I… uh… I think I upset your brother a bit with it all though. I think I pushed him too hard… maybe so hard that I pushed him away."

He waits for the reply.

"…He's just so strong, Gohan. Like you. I know he could be something great-"

The grave suddenly seems disapproving and Goku has to rebuke.

"Not that he isn't great! It's just – _ahh_ , you know what I mean."

He sighs.

"I think he'll forgive me. I hope so, I mean. I know _you_ would've…"

A new voice interrupts. "You're later than usual."

It's like gravel crunching through quiet air, an act which makes Goku flinch. Someone could be shouting down his ear and he'd be less surprised. Goku twists to see the stiff figure of Piccolo. The namekian is hunkered down in the shade, wrought with an impossibly sour expression and looking about ready to give Goku another bout of earache.

"We're not doing this here," Goku says, turning back to Gohan's garden.

Piccolo's tone tests his patience quickly. "I saw the boy fly off home."

" _Goten_ ," Goku presses, "Went home this morning, yes."

"Because of last night I assume."

 _And this morning_.

Goku knows that he must have broken his son's heart, he knows because it had been written all over his face. Goku chose the Supreme Kai over his own son.

"He'll come back." He still faces the grave, and corrects a drooping flower when it flails. "Goten is a strong kid."

Piccolo scoffs and Goku feels his presence directly behind him.

"The Supreme Kai spoke to me too."

Goku hums.

"He said that you're going to help them."

"The Earth could be in danger. He said some mystery fighters have turned up around here. Of course I wanna' help."

"You think they could be linked to…" the namekian lowers his tone, " _him_."

He knows what Piccolo is referring to. He knows his friend is looking at the grave with his usual loathing, his usual disgust at it for even daring to exist. If Goku had disliked the idea of a grave then Piccolo had _abhorred_ it.

Piccolo has never paid his respects, not even once.

And it kills the saiyan if only because he knows how much Gohan would be hurt by it.

"I don't know who these 'Zealites' the Supreme Kai is talking about are, but if they have any possible connection to Gohan's death then I'm gonna' look into it."

Goku turns and stands, moving away from the grave. Piccolo follows with aggravated steps, which is good because Goku doesn't want this kind of energy near Gohan's garden.

"This is getting ridiculous!" Piccolo snaps, "It was just last night that pushed Goten too far. You haven't learnt your lesson at all. When are you going to drop this ridiculous belief and stop chasing phantoms?"

"Not this again…"

"This again! This again because your thick skull clearly doesn't take in a thing I say! You're obsessed, Son!" the namekian hisses. "And finally it caught up with you last night. I've been telling you for years that even Goten will get sick of your nonsense. You nearly killed the boy."

Goku swallows, lowering his gaze. "I didn't mean to hurt him. And I already told him sorry. I just thought-"

"You thought he was _Gohan_ ," Piccolo spits as though ridding himself of a foul taste. The act makes something in Goku's stomach swirl angrily. "You thought he'd just put up with it, that he'd want to do everything he can to be strong like his father. Goten is not his brother, Goku."

"I know that."

"I imagine you do now. I can't imagine he'll be coming back anytime soon, can you?"

Goku's fists clench. "And what do you care, Piccolo? You've never been nice to him even once, not for years."

"At least I show him the mercy of not shoving my ideals down his throat."

"Goten is strong! If he trains then-"

"He doesn't want to, Goku! Not everyone has that same animalistic drive you and Vegeta have. Not Goten, not Trunks, and not even Gohan had it. The only difference is that Gohan put up with your incessant desire to get stronger for years – just to appease you. Goten doesn't have the patience to put up with your badgering. At least he has _that_ sense!"

Goku wants to argue that Gohan had loved sparring with them. They'd cherished their time training together, even with Piccolo before he'd grown into the soured version of himself that he is today. But this is an argument for another time, one to be repeated as is usually the case on all matters Gohan. Instead, Goku says, "Goten'll come around. He'll forgive me."

Piccolo scoffs. "For nearly killing him? Maybe. For everything else? Well, who can say?"

What other stuff? Just what the heck is Piccolo getting at?

"I'm not going to tell you how to raise your kid, Son, but if you keep prioritizing everything else then you're going to end up a very sad and lonely person."

Goku clicks his tongue and scratches behind his head. "Is this because of the Supreme Kai stuff?"

"It's a contributing factor."

"I'm doing what's right for the Earth," Goku asserts, "who knows when it'll next be attacked?"

"No, you're just trying to keep the kais sweet." Piccolo jabs a claw-like finger into his chest. "You just want them to do some digging on Gohan."

"And what's wrong with that?"

Piccolo growls, swiping his hands across his puckered face. "There's _nothing_ to dig!"

Goku has to bite his tongue. It's a bit of a new skill. Arguing every case against him has only hurt his relationships, and whilst Piccolo seems not to take sharpened words to heart he seems to be thinning his patience with Goku these days.

"Still," the saiyan eventually begins, "the Supreme Kai is worried. Don't you think we should be helping him? I thought you more than anyone would want to help the kais, Piccolo."

"Well, of course I do. But I don't need to do it with the pretence of being a Good Samaritan."

"Uh, right, fine." Goku doesn't want to argue. His tactic is to change the topic completely. He'd planned to train but if Piccolo isn't interested, which is the vibe Goku's currently getting, they may as well talk about what the Supreme Kai had spoken to them about. "Do you know anything about these Zealite guys?"

Piccolo breaks, looking torn between wanting to continue arguing or not. Eventually, "I know about as much as you do."

"Mm… So not much then. Think Vegeta knows anything?"

"I doubt it. These fighters are otherworldly from what the Supreme Kai had said to me. What did he say to you?"

"Just to keep an eye out, make sure that I'm not being trailed or whatever. He's gonna' come back and tell me more when he knows what's going on. He said that stuff up _there_ is getting a bit crazy."

A snort of amusement from his friend surprises Goku. "How is it that Earth always manages to get pulled into these messes?"

Goku breathes out a laugh. "I used to think it was me…"

Piccolo actually smirks. "The day is young, maybe it is."

The saiyan offers an uneasy smile, and then turns back to the grave in the distance.

The smile fades.

_I won't stop searching for the truth, Gohan._

_You can count on me._

* * *


	10. Non-Fiction

**Age 775**

**The Realm of the Almighty**

Gohan stares at the hard drink being pushed in front of him. Rixas, on the other side of the table, has a devious look about him. The drink is pink in colour with a fizz of bubbles and golden sparkles. It looks like something a kid might ask for, something overloaded with so much sugar that cavities will carve themselves out. A faint scent of cherries can be smelled.

"It looks like a dessert," Gohan tells his grinning spectator.

Eyebrows waggle. "A special dessert. I think you'll like it."

"I don't." The teenager pushes the drink wayside, and gives the blonde the usual speech about pressuring him into becoming a drunkard like him. "Also, I'm _underage_."

"Eh. Such a buzz kill."

Gohan watches as Rixas snatches the flowery drink and halves the contents in seconds. "Eugh, disgusting."

"My sweetie-pious," the god says, slamming the glass down. A cherry-flavoured burp passes between them. "How far-eth ye shall fall." **  
**

* * *

' _Upon the condition that the people of the Almighty never question the dominion of the kais, they were left to live in isolated peace. However, following the decades after the Great War, there was a violent bout of attacks on the people from an unconfirmed source. Information today suggests it to be those in connection with the kais of the past, and whilst no official incarcerations of these attackers were issued, it became the catalyst of distrust still observed between the remaining people of the Almighty and the kais today.'_

_The Almighty and its Children_

_Page 92_

* * *

Fingers detach from the glass and return to the curling pages of his book.

Gohan lowers it and swallows a sound of indignation. This is the third book he's read on the subject. Kais hate the people of the Almighty, the people of the Almighty once hated the kais (once hated if only because those that did are now all dead). There are only a few servants of the Almighty remaining -and he's one of them. But Gohan doesn't hate kais, he doesn't hate anyone really. This is all still new to him. Books about wars, ki, magic, history and everything in between lines the shelves in his room, yet he still finds himself unable to connect to any of it.

He frowns. Why Mori has so much non-fiction is beyond him. His library, whilst once impressive, now bores Gohan. The year he's been here has been filled with so much reading that he's surprised that his eyes still work, that and that the space in between them hasn't ruptured. The book is tossed aside with the others.

It's foggy around the estate today. Gohan watches as it pools around green hills in the background with their pillow-like essence. Unable to see just where the sky begins and the fog ends, clouds hanging ominously low. It blurs together. No longer can he see the truth of the landscape.

He hums, brushing his fingers over the glass of the window. To the touch, it's cold, and he recalls hearing that the weather would be taking a turn. The season is changing. Like last year, he'll see the snow.

It's a beautiful visage. Thickly, the snowfall will descend upon the estate and transform the cluster of buildings into an impossibly festive expression of winter. Whilst the estate is admittedly very pretty on its own, Gohan acknowledges how much the powdery cold makes it seem to _shine_. Sheets of white will blanket the area so serenely that Gohan actually finds himself looking forward to it.

There is little else for him to look forward to these days.

A knock at his door follows.

"Come in," he sighs. He already knows who it is.

The door nearly overturns on the hinges, screeching as Gohan cringes in anticipation. Then _she_ appears, hands on hips. "You're _still_ here? Why are you _still_ here?"

His shoulders droop. "Good afternoon, Myra..."

"You're late, my lord! You're very, very late!"

Gohan makes no effort to rectify this. In fact, he helps himself to another terrible book.

"Just what are you doing?" Myra badgers, eyes most likely frantic and bulging as they usually do when she's reprimanding him. "You need to go! Why aren't you dressed yet? Oh my god, you're not dressed yet. I-I need to go get your robes!"

He meanders in the general direction of his bed and attempts to crawl back under the covers, book in hand. She grabs his foot before he's even halfway to his pillow. For someone so small she's oddly strong.

"You're wearing your formal greys for the meeting," she tells him fiercely. The cloak hangs over her shoulder as she tugs at his ankle. "You're going to get dressed." Flat like a starfish, his face grinds against the covers as she drags him further. " _And_ you're going to apologize to Lord Quell for turning up to his summoning half an hour late."

Gohan allows her to pull him because fighting is never worth the hassle. When she's done he's left bent over the base of his bed, half-sprawled with the cloak deposited onto him.

"What's the point?" he drawls, "He's just going to shout at me for fifteen minutes like he always does every other week."

Honestly, Gohan could present Quell with the man's hopes and dreams on a silver platter and the guy would still find a way to suffocate Gohan with his pressure. He'd snipe and glare and make the teenager feel rotten in only the special way Quell can. One time, Gohan must have disgruntled Quell so much because the very next day he'd been very rudely awoken by his newly rehired assistant, one Myra of the Clear Sky Planet.

She's perky, Gohan had first thought. She'd come across friendly enough those couple months ago, but it had been a trick, for the girl is demanding and very much loyal to Quell despite her insistence that she works only for him. Gohan's dubious on whether or not Mori ever had an assistant in the first place despite what any of the others say, although Gohan does remember the strange caller at his door on his first night at the Estate.

"Maybe if you make an effort then he'll look upon you more kindly," she insists lightly in that very Myra way. She drops his foot. "My goodness, my lord, when did you last shower?"

"Last night," he grumbles into his duvet. "Rixas dragged me out for a run this morning…"

" _No_ …" She groans and he can practically see her life flash before her eyes. "Oh really, we _must_ hurry. Get up! Get up!"

Lethargically, he does so just so she doesn't pop on the spot. Myra's usually a well presented young lady; always tidy in her robes, her cobalt hair regularly pulled neatly into a cute hairstyle. But today, she looks like she's managed to age forty years in his company alone. Her robes are askew and her hair is wiry, indecisive in which way it wants to stick out.

Blue skin burns purple as she pushes him on track for his bathroom. "Hurry!"

He doesn't.

As he showers he hears her grouse to herself in a language all of her own. Good, he's glad she's frustrated. Gohan's frustrated too. He doesn't want to be thrown into Quell's company, he doesn't want to have to feel like rubbish for the next unforeseeable couple of days, and he most certainly doesn't want to be chaperoned by some irrational assistant he doesn't want.

"Lord _Mori,_ " she complains from the other side of the door.

It's gotten to the point where Gohan almost enjoys hearing her tones of peril.

He emerges from the haze of steam, still fastening his cloak, grumpy as he thumbs the finicky things with mounting irritation. She charges forward to connect the remaining clasps. "Okay, okay, we're only forty-seven minutes late. That's fine. Absolutely fine. Lord Quell is a reasonable man." She ignores the scoff. "His assistant won't be pleased but he never is, really, is he? Oh, it'll go swimmingly. I-I'm sure. Yes, that's right. Swimmingly."

She's the only participant in the conversation but Gohan has a feeling the words aren't meant for him anyway.

A further few minutes later and after being deemed worthy, Gohan's snatched from his sanctuary and marched down the halls of marble. The rapping of boots against floor echoes eternally.

"He's just returned from a meeting with the kais," Myra informs as she pats down his cloak from the back, jogging to keep up.

"So he's in a bad mood then…"

"Mm… Er…"

"So that's a yes."

"Er… Maybe it's best that you don't mention the situation with Lord Rixas."

"Which one? The one where he blew a hole in the East Pavilion or the one where he accidently set Choir Forest ablaze?"

"No, the _other_ one. Although it's best to keep them quiet too."

Gohan stops to think and she ushers him forward once more. "When he returned completely drunk and threw up on the visiting angel?"

"No. The oth-"

"Myra, you've got to be more specific."

"The _thing_ ," she hisses in a whisper, "you know, the thing with those… _girls_."

He stops again. His cheeks warm up and he _remembers_. Oh yes, does he remember. "I'm not going to tell Quell," he whispers back furiously, "I'm not going to tell anyone _ever_."

"G-Good."

They reach the entrance to the conservatory Quell likes to call him to. If not for the daunting atmosphere of dread attached to the place then Gohan wouldn't mind it so much. It's bright and you can see so much of the grounds from here that it would make a lovely spot to lose yourself in, especially with a book. Actually, one of those non-fiction books he can never get a hold of would be great.

It's strange if only because these meetings are a relatively new thing. Perhaps a handful of months ago, Quell had spontaneously summoned him and demanded an hour of his time. It'd been a heck of a shock considering the last time he'd seen Gohan he'd told him that he'd wanted him to denounce his mortality –whatever that meant.

Unbeknownst to Gohan at this point, the topic is not to die.

He goes to dismiss Myra but she's long gone. Her duty is done. He's here as Quell (her true master) had requested, so she needn't see the carnage.

Gohan gingerly enters the space. Remembering to keep his head high (as Quell hates it when he slouches) he curves around the side of the room as though a rat would. Tickling vines snag his cloak as he draws ever closer to where Quell sits in the centre of the room. Even with the weather against them, the lighting in the conservatory makes Quell glow oh so angelically. A framing of foliage, green on gold, circles him impressively. The god always looks so _ethereal_ , Gohan thinks. He suits his position; he suits it in ways only Rixas and Gohan could dream of.

To add to the scene, there's a delicate china cup between Quell's thumb and fingers as he considers a book of his own. He doesn't even look up when Gohan sits at the other side of the table.

Gohan breathes hard. "I'm sor-"

Quell raises a finger and Gohan silences. It stretches out and the teenager watches as the god's eyes follow the print of the page. Time draws on and Gohan feels the prickle of sweat. Finally, upon completing the section of text, Quell delicately pulls down the bookmark and places the book atop the table. A sip of his beverage is taken.

And then; "You're late."

"I'm s-sorry."

Quell hums and places the cup beside his book.

"I feared that I'd be drinking my tea alone. Do help yourself. Just don't drop it this time."

It's more of an order than a request and so Gohan reaches for the teapot and pours himself his own cup. Last time, he'd dropped the entire thing, smashing it and causing the tea to drench his cloak a murky brown. Quell had not been impressed. This time, he makes sure to settle it down on the table with steady hands.

He sips it under Quell's piercing gaze.

"It's… sweet," Gohan eventually offers.

This seems to be enough for Quell. His nose raises high in the air, twitching like a rabbit's would. "Of course it is. It's a blend from Rosemary-Green Village."

Gohan nods even though he has no idea where that is.

"Mori," Quells begins, tone aloof. "Doctor Hezk tells me that your sessions with her are stagnating. You've not recovered anything of value for weeks now. Do we need to increase the number of sessions back to daily?"

Gohan coughs awkwardly. "N-No. Once a week is more than enough."

Quells hums. The teenager feels the god's pressure kissing at the conservatory like the sea meeting the shore.

"I read all the time," Gohan next says with haste. "I'm learning a lot. I, uh, read a really interesting book about the Great Mass Extinction Ki-Explosion of Era 39… or was it 49? A lot of people died—" He coughs, awkward. "But yeah, I'm learning."

"But not _remembering_."

"I remembered something with Rixas last week," he tries, panicking just a little. The idea of more memory sessions makes his insides bubble anxiously. "He was showing me how to block and-"

"How terrible," Quell interrupts, "you don't _fight_ , Mori. What a senseless waste of time for the two of you."

"I remembered something about Rixas," Gohan continues anyway. He's heard Quell's spiel about his training several times before. Rixas just tells him to ignore him –which are big words considering even Rixas rarely defies his brother. Oddly enough, it'd been this very conversation which had rebirthed the memory in the first place.

They'd been training in the courtyard along with Roarg, and Gohan had been complaining as usual about Quell's meddling via Myra. Of course the teenager hadn't been giving it his full attention and the brute had managed a nasty swing to the back of Gohan's head. In the mud, he'd had a flashback of sorts. It'd been like watching a film but only instead of watching it from the perspective of a typical viewer, it'd been from the main character's point of view.

He'd felt disconnected to the body he'd been wearing. There'd been no emotions there, only a swarm of recollections about the situation, as though they'd been slapping sense into him.

In this memory, Gohan, or rather Mori, had been sat inside Rixas' chambers. They'd been drinking something Gohan believes to be alcoholic if the burning sensation upon his tongue was anything to go by. It'd been sweet, however, sweeter than the tea he's sipping at right now. Over the drinks, Mori and Rixas had spoken about menial things such as training tactics and ki before discussing matters about the estate.

Considering it had been Gohan's first taste at reliving Mori's memories it'd been a little disappointing in its own way. It'd been so strangely… domestic.

Gohan does recall being surprised at the discussion topics for a second reason, mainly so the fighting as Mori had not been a fighter in any capacity other than being a ki-wielder. Later, as Rixas slathers him in salve, he's told that Mori had always been curious and eager to learn. Mori had been a "big brains" as Rixas had not so eloquently put it. Apparently, the guy would close himself off for weeks with his books and research.

And even more dollops of salve later, Gohan learns that Mori may have always been interested in fighting –he had quite possibly wanted to learn himself.

Yet Gohan doesn't tell Quell this. He gives the god a diet version, giving more details about the affairs of the estate and what Rixas' chambers had looked like during whatever time period he'd seen.

Quell seems mollified enough. The pressure eases. "I suppose we can see how it goes for a short time. Myra at least seems to be keeping you to a schedule."

His cheeks tinge in embarrassment. And so, Gohan lowers his head -only for it to bounce back up when Quell clicks his fingers in rapid succession.

"Stop that," he snipes, "you're a god, for heaven's sake. Keep your head held high."

"R-Right."

"Really…" Quell clicks his tongue. "After living here for some time I would have thought you would be more assimilated with the customs expected of you, of the regal nature we should exude. Whilst Rixas remains defiant I expect more of you. I don't want to see such displays of withering self-esteem or weak character."

"O-Okay."

"I expect compliance."

"Right."

"Tch, honestly… It's unbefitting to stare at your toes as much as you do."

"Yes," Gohan quietly agrees, forcing his chin up, forcing his golden stare into the direct path of Quell's.

Quell takes another sip of his drink, and so Gohan stiffly does the same. The tension thickens and the lingering threat of the pressure hangs forebodingly in the background. One wrong move and Gohan knows it'll come down on him like a ton of bricks.

"Also, I can't say that I'm a fan of your current style," he next jabs. It takes Gohan a second to realize what the god is talking about, with Quell's line of sight confirming it. "Your hair used to be so well-kept, and so wonderfully long. Traditional, just as mine is."

"When I was a kid I used to h-"

"Now you resemble a hedgehog."

Gohan touches his spikes. "It… uh… it runs in the family."

"It doesn't run in _this_ family, although I do suppose Rixas has the appearance of being dragged through a hedge backwards. Oh, don't look so self-conscious. It's nothing a glamour can't fix. Perhaps the elixir will help when the time comes…"

_Elixir?_

The god snaps, "Chin up."

"Y-Yes."

"Oh, this might be of interest to you," Quell then says conversationally, surprisingly bright. It changes his face and for a second Gohan forgets that he's sitting before a predator. He actually pours Gohan a fresh cup of tea, and then himself one. "I spoke with this Supreme Kai of yours, the one Doctor Jivel mentioned to me."

Gohan feels excitement and anxiety all at once. His stomach flips. "You did?"

"I did. He'd been out of sorts though, unfortunately. Was hardly good conversation. Apparently he'd just unfused from his underling. Foul business, Mori. How you manage to mingle yourself with these lessers I'll never understand."

"What did he say? Did he mention me? Did he ask?"

Quell appears confused. "Why would he? No, he was just attending the meeting."

Gohan closes his mouth with a sad, "oh."

"But he did tell me this," Quell begins, stirring his tea. He taps the spoon against the china with unrivalled grace. "He'd been doing what he referred to as 'damage control' on some backwater planet in the Northern Quadrant, the one where Majin magic had been running rampant. Naturally, anything Majin draws my curiousity and so I pried as so often I do. The Majin magic is long gone now unfortunately but he did tell me of the residing saiyans there."

"Earth," Gohan breathes.

"Now, now, Mori. I had no idea that you'd been a part of the Majin Buu fiasco." He sips his tea. "No matter. It's of little importance now. So, I'd asked what had become of the planet after the magic's disappearance. He'd revealed little, but he did tell me that the warriors there were in mourning."

Dread.

Gohan feels dread. It's cold like ice, creeping up into his chest.

He knows before he asks. "In mourning?"

Quell surveys him and places his teacup back down on the table. "Apparently, one of the younger saiyans had been found dead of natural causes one morning."

His head drops, mouth opening. Gohan thinks his heart might fall out of it.

"Did… did he say-?"

"That it was you?" Quell finishes, and then clicks his tongue. " _Stop looking at your feet, Mori._ No, he needn't say. But I believe the story tells itself. You shed your mortal body in order to return home." His stare becomes intense. "The news relieved me."

It doesn't relieve Gohan. "I… died. I died to come here." The shock only seems to grow, seems to spiral and give him heartache and headache so bad he doesn't know which is worse. His voice rises. "I died!"

"Sit down," Quell hisses.

Gohan doesn't know when he stood but he refuses to budge. His fists clench at his side. He-he wants to hit something.

"I died to come here!" he tells Quell, furious. "My family must be devastated. They think I'm dead. No wonder my dad hasn't found me! He wouldn't know where to look –where I've gone –been _taken_. I –I… I've got to go back!"

Then the pressure slams Gohan to the ground. The ocean of ki ripples over his body, and he can't move an inch either side.

"The news was supposed to _relieve_ you too, you foolish little retard."

Gohan grits his teeth, pushing feverishly against the pressure. It's for nought. He can't even lift his head, never mind his legs. His mouth, however, does move.

"They think I'm dead!" he growls, cheek against marble, "My mother – _she_ -!" His voice becomes weak. "Quell, I have a brother..."

"Yes, you do," he agrees. He stands, looming over Gohan with a waterfall of blonde locks. "You have two brothers, and I am one of them. This is my gift to you, little brother. I could have withheld this information but I wanted to do you a kindness."

"How is this kind?" he snarls. Tears threaten. "You're taunting me!"

"I'm pitying you!" he snaps just as severely, "I tell you this so you can let go. This –this mortal life of yours- has come to an end and it is time for you to accept that. You left a corpse on that nowhere planet of yours, and so the people you think of as," his sneer becomes so ugly that no flattering light can help, " _family_ have something to mourn. They can have their closure, and so can you."

"I could go back-"

"This character of yours is dead, Mori. I refuse to say the name. Enough games have been played and it's time for you to move on. Accept it, as those from your planet will eventually come to." Quell kneels down, and Gohan feels the brush of hair against his neck. "You were there one moment, and you are gone the next. That is the way of mortality."

With that, Quell retreats out of the conservatory and Gohan's left to deflate on the floor, feeling very little.

* * *

The anger follows later.

Rixas is out of the realm today just to spite him. The guy is always gone when Gohan needs him most, most certainly gallivanting in taverns and interesting lands whilst Gohan remains landlocked. Whatever the guy gets up to must only lead to trouble. Sometimes he returns intoxicated and bangs on Gohan's door at incomprehensible hours, demanding his attention loudly. The first few occasions had Gohan humouring him, had Gohan feeling too guilty to turn him away –but Gohan's learning now. He won't let the knuckle-head walk all over him. The guilt has long since receded and Gohan is more than happy to slam a door in the guy's face.

How he always seems to be so chipper, Gohan has no idea.

_He's probably always drunk…_

His stupid laughing face makes the teenager want to punch something.

Grumbling, he brings the duvet over his head.

Gohan has long since crawled back under the covers of his bed. It's warm and comfortable, and he gets to lie there and stew in his own frustrations until Myra gets bored enough to hunt him down.

She's worse than his mother…

The moment stills.

_Mother… She thinks I'm…_

_Well, I am…_

His chest aches, and so he reclines into the plush of feathery pillows. The flustered pink of his cheeks press against silk and he waits -he waits for the surge of sadness to pass. He waits for the melancholy to follow.

In fact, he waits so long that he falls asleep.

* * *

' _Ancient relics belonging to the Golden Rising period of history are still in high demand despite the bonded magic being dissolved. The Gods of Revelations' campaign against magically crafted creations proved successful some time during the Fifty-Fourth Era, yet it wasn't until the Fifty-Fifth Era that magic quality throughout the universe decreased. The magic seen today is but a fraction of what used to be wielded by mortals on a usual basis, and it is in thanks to the last generation of Gods of Revelation that mortals' control over magic is now monitored and controlled._

_The new generation of Gods of Revelation have yet to distinguish themselves from prior generations. They are of few gods actually born instead of created. With this, their purposes are always being redefined, and their actions; pungently scrutinized. This unidentified aim of the collective, undoubtedly, is a contributing factor in the kai's disconcerting relationship with the Almighty and their servants.'_

_The Almighty and its Children_

_Page 107_

* * *

"Nose in a book. Standard Mori." Rixas says by way of greeting.

Gohan hums and feels little need to spare a glance, folding his body into the crook of the armchair. The welcoming fabric seems tempted to engulf him entirely. In the backdrop, fire crackles, snapping wood as white crawls up along the window panes.

His brother advances. "Are you being moody with me again?"

A yellowed page is turned. "No," Gohan replies. But really, it sounds flat even to him.

"Very convincing."

"I'm just reading… you know, like ' _standard Mori'_."

"Pft, there's definitely a bee in your bonnet." Gohan's head is forcibly shifted when Rixas takes a pew on the armrest. A torrent of breath streams through the overgrown puppy's nose. "Whatcha' reading this time?"

"A book…" Gohan replies with budding despondence.

"Is it a romance? Smut-book?"

Gohan almost drops the thing, spluttering. "N-No, it's not a romance. It's non-fiction."

"Sounds boring."

He flicks a page over a bit too forcibly with the aim that Rixas might just get the message. A moment passes with the firm weight of Rixas still beside him. Gohan can't even find it within himself to be surprised.

"Wanna' come with me to the Spire central zone? I'm thinking a beer might change that mood of yours. I'm sick of seeing you feeling sorry for yourself."

"I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I'm reading."

"You're moping; that's what you're doing. What is it? What's up? Has Myra the Terrible been hassling you to kiss Quell's toes?"

Gohan slams the book shut and tosses it to the floor. It's apparent no reading can be completed with this hovering gnat about. He snaps, "What do you want, Rixas?"

"Eh, so tetchy… I'm just trying to cheer you up."

The teenager pauses, groans and then scrapes his hair back with tensed fingers. "I _know_. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. It's just, I'm still annoyed about last week with Quell, and…" A sigh leaves him. "Sorry. I know you're not trying to annoy me on purpose."

Rixas barks a laugh. "You're sorry that 'I'm not trying to annoy you on purpose'?"

Gohan breaks into a smile, a small one. "I'm sorry."

With the point of his shoe, Rixas gestures to the hulk of a book lying dormant on the floor. "Those things won't help, ya know."

"You mean _books_? I'm learning about history, er, _our_ history. I thought you'd be hap-"

"I _mean_ , they're super depressing. Learning is great and all but you're just gonna' stress yourself out with it all if you do it in one go."

"I guess…"

Rixas throws an arm around the back of the chair, leaning into it. "Our history is so long and convoluted that you'll be here all day unpacking it, little brother. Why not do something more productive with your time?"

Gohan's smile stretches. "Like train?"

Rixas' own nefarious smile becomes dangerous. "If you're offering."

"Heh, I'm not."

"Spoilsport."

"Is every other day not good enough? I think you've got a problem."

Rixas appears appalled, hand to heart. "It's _never_ enough. I'm your precious teacher, sweetie-pie. You're finally getting better with your footwork after my excellent lessons. Don't you appreciate the fruits of my labour?"

Gohan manages a laugh. "Yes, I do. I actually like keeping my shins intact."

"That's the spirit." He slaps at Gohan's shoulder. "If you come now then I'll promise not to drag you out of bed tomorrow bright and early. Instead, we can spoon the morning away. We can even talk about our dreams and aspirations."

Gohan shuffles away, but he's still amused. "The only aspiration I have right now is to finish this book in peace. I'm reading about the relics. I thought the previous Gods of Revelation had a point. They were super dangerous."

"Oh boo. _How_ gloomy. Ki's dangerous, brother. Should we get rid of that?" Rixas offers a long raspberry. "Here's a spoiler; the last God of Revelation before us got executed millions years back. The kais got uber pissy about the purging of magical relic-things and then _poof_ , the guy got beheaded or whatever and then Quell was born. The new cycle of gods was set in motion. The end."

"I think there's a bit more to it than that."

"I mean, sure, if you want to read the boring nitty-gritty melodrama and politics of it. The only important thing for us to remember is that the kais throw an absolute fit if we so much as sneeze in the wrong direction."

"Because they're worried we're going to incite some kind of rebellion against them? Why would we? They're doing fine, right?"

Rixas shrugs. "No idea. I think you're talking to the wrong brother about this kinda' stuff. I just beat up whoever Quell commands me to." Gohan feels a tugging at his hair. "You could just ask him, ya know."

Gohan brings his knees up, rapping his fingers against the fine material until it bunches. "I… don't think that that's a good idea."

"Yeah, he's all cranky with you right now, isn't he? You properly pissed him off well and truly."

"Mm…"

Rixas pulls another at another lock of hair. "Hey, Mori."

The tone isn't welcome. "What?"

"You know what would cheer you up?"

"What?"

"Coming to the Spire and getting a beer with me."

Gohan stands and the lug falls against the chair before dropping into Gohan's evacuated spot gracelessly. Without looking at the collection of spindly limbs, the teenager raises a hand and bats a lazy wave. " _Goodbye_ , Rixas."

* * *

' _The fallout following the purge of magical relics can still be felt amongst not only the kais but also by the figureheads overseeing godly jurisdiction. Division between reining gods has caused friction over the millennia over the involvement of kais in godly affairs. With the inclusion of angels and destroyers, however, the sway of bias leans in their favour, and control over the affairs of balance primarily is situated with them. In contrast to the World of the Kais, the Spire exists to home a majority of gods still active._

_Primarily, the Spire remains home to the children of the Almighty, and only those chosen may enter should they not be born there. Mortal and non-mortals alike share the realm, yet it is most famous for the Estate of Revelation which sits north of the bustling centre._

_These ancient grounds still house the infamous branch of gods known as Gods of Revelation. Many a generation of Gods of Revelation have lived there, with the current generation being survived by three of the four brothers. They reside at the Estate to this day.'_

_Kais and Deities – A Turbulent Foundation_

_Page 54_

* * *

"Lord Mori, I beg of you, _please_ come back inside."

Myra's head looks very little when viewing it from the bushes under his bedroom window. It's angrily bobbing, possibly even steaming, all the way back up in his bedroom. Meanwhile, he plucks at the individual twigs from his robes. It hadn't been his most graceful escape.

"You're scheduled with Doctor Hezk. _Please_ , my lord. You need to go – _WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!_ Don't walk away!"

Icy grass crunches underfoot as he ploughs through the restriction of shrubbery. Not even ensnaring vines can stop him.

"Lord _Moriiii…"_ she sobs in the distance.

He feels a bit bad, actually. It's the second session skipped with Hezk, and the fifth or sixth time Gohan's managed a great escape from his overbearing assistant. It's madness to Gohan, absolute madness how much of a tight schedule she has him on. He can't have a meal these days without her breathing down his neck –really, it's a surprise she hasn't coordinated a routine for him to chew his dinner.

It's not that Myra's a bad person… but Gohan does find it a little too easy to dislike her. Had her job been anything other than acting as the thorn in his side then maybe they could have been frie—acquaintances. Acquaintances. The girl is far too neurotic.

After breaking free of the garden, Gohan finds himself drudging through mounds of snow. There's a wind too, one which chills him to the bone and has him retiring to a derelict building resembling a barn somewhere north of his ward.

A mismatch of wood and stone work divides the build, some of it being coated in the frosty ice of the wild. Vines hang, dead, as the victims of the season, and hand-hold around the barn as morbid decoration. Gohan passes large sections of it and he follows the tangles up onto the next floor.

It's here that he ki-blasts a fire into life. Straw is a fine material to burn, what with its dry nature and copious amounts of it surrounding him. He's lucky in that regard, Gohan supposes.

The glow of orange on cool greys flickers, and he enjoys the static-like shadows fizzing against the wood. The teenager sits back and watches, curling his toes against his boots.

Anything is better than being suffocated at the estate. Gohan just needs… a break, and maybe one of his books. He should have brought a book.

For some reason, the instance reminds Gohan of one of the few times he'd taken Goten camping. The weather had been abysmal then too, and Gohan had made them a fire just a few feet beyond their tent. Whilst the plan had been to fish it hadn't worked out that way. But still, Gohan recalls upon it fondly. Goten had brought a pack of cards, and so Gohan taught him how to play a couple of games Krillin'd taught him back when he was a kid. They both had managed to catch some game that night too, and roasted it together over the campfire with a selection of herbs. Gohan remembers the meat being tough –and maybe just a bit spicy in its own way, only tasting as good as it did because they'd both been so hungry for it.

He smiles, but it hurts –and not just because of the cold.

Gohan really misses his baby brother.

He misses all of them.

For hours, he sits there with his only company being his little swirls of frosty breath. It's only when Myra somehow tracks him down, looking far bluer than normal and in a coat thrice her size, does Gohan awkwardly follow her back.

* * *

' _Roles of the Gods of Revelation are divided as follows: Conquest, Famine, War and Death. Respectfully, each representative reins with divinity of an appropriate calibre. Of this generation, the eldest of the four siblings, Lord Quell of Revelation, famously utilizes a method to contort the pressure of his own energy. He extends this power upon his audience even when not in battle. Feeling it in person is compared to one having their lungs crushed under immeasurable weight._

_Whilst the identities of the other brothers remain mysterious (in likelihood because of Lord Famis of Revelation's questionable death), Lord Quell remains a usual mouthpiece for the Almighty at Meetings of the Deities, consultations with kais and other assemblies which require presence. Neither the God of War nor the God of Death have been formally introduced or even identified. Only those residing in the Realm of the Almighty have been known to interact with them, yet despite this, it has not come to public attention of their identities._

_Though they're not without public appearances as, famously, the Gods of Revelation are easily recognizable by the masks they wear.'_

_Knowing YOUR Gods_

_Page 12_

* * *

Spring is little different at the estate as it is on Earth. Flecks of colour peek behind stubborn evergreen, and the promise of warmer weather can be felt in the air. Even the greys and browns of the estate seem more hopeful, what with how the sun casts sleek rays of light to slide down the walls. The building _glimmers_.

Gohan, on the other hand, does not. He feels as if winter still has him in its eternal grasp. The sunny façade of outside is just that. That's why he stays inside with the books.

And it has little to do with how Quell looks at him like he's dog muck, or how he's on permanent lockdown, or even how Myra bosses him around whenever he stands still for longer than five minutes. No, he keeps telling Rixas, and even Raorg.

He's not depressed.

He's fine.

They want him to remember, don't they? That's what he's doing. He's burning through Mori's entire library to try and learn about this stupid place. He's swallowed book after book, and still, there's barely anything about what kind of life Mori himself had led. The sessions with Hezk barely do anything these days, and even Doctor Jivel isn't much help. He just tells Gohan to smell the flowers more, to try and enjoy himself –to try and live.

How can Gohan live when so recently he'd died?

Gohan doesn't want to be happy here, live here… _be_ here.

The only thing he wants is his family… He misses them.

His book is discarded onto his bedside table. From the window, Gohan watches as spring comes to the estate. Time passes, and he watches as it leaves too.

* * *

_Unless you are of noble birth, it is just bad manners to exercise energy in the Realm of the Almighty. One should walk, preferably several steps behind reining deities. Valued traditions include but are not limited to; reserving ki to an absolute minimum, referring to those above you strictly by their title, presenting weapons for inspection upon entry to the highest order, and not eating fish on every third day of the month._

_The Realm of the Almighty: Know Nots and Know Hows_

_Page 44_

* * *

Gohan turns to Roarg, extending his hands out and trying to playfully grasp at her sword. "According to this book, you're supposed to give me your weapon for inspection."

She appears horrified, and pinches his book right from his hands. It's positioned right between his eyes in heavy threat. "You touch Steeled Kiss and I am afraid I will have to send you back to the infirmary. Also, we don't follow at least half of these outdated rules any longer."

"Pft… 'Steeled Kiss'?"

"Steeled Kiss is a fine name..."

Rixas laughs, approaching with two wooden swords of his own. "You're a romantic at heart really, aren't you, Captain?"

Roarg scoffs. "I don't think that's accurate."

Neither does Gohan. The woman terrifies him, much more than Videl ever had.

Rixas leans over and throws something. "Here, Mori. Catch." He does. It's one of the wooden swords. "I wanna' see what you can remember. You used to have a sword back in the before time."

The teenager stares down at the splinter-hazard and then back up at his brother. "I've trained with swords –back on Earth and in the World of the Kais. I think I'm good to work with something a bit more… er, _less_ wooden."

"This'll be fine for now."

"Bu-"

"Trust me." Rixas grins and saunters over to the centre of the courtyard's allocated training space. "It's not about doing damage or anything. I just wanna' see that lovely form of yours."

Gohan follows, cringing. "Why do you have to sound so creepy about it?" He falls into the practiced position Rixas has been so keen on teaching him, but he's unsure what to do with his right arm now that there's a 'sword' in it.

"I'm admiring my work. Very lovely. Have you seen this, Roarg? Lord Mori of Tragic Footwork finally has a stance to be proud of."

"Oh, yes. Very nice," she says dryly, but she's not looking. She's now got Gohan's book open in her lap.

Gohan only half-turns. His feet remain cemented to the ground. "Roarg, don't you lose my bookmark! And, Rixas, my form was _fine_ before."

Rixas snorts, mouth hanging open in amusement. Just as Gohan thinks he's about to say something, the guy brings a rapid knee forward. His foot extends and just as it's about to make contact with Gohan's shin, the teenager swerves backwards onto the other leg. He captures Rixas' ankle on the retreat and lunges him forward. He slips back, falls, and lands at Gohan's boots.

"That was satisfying," Gohan then tells him.

"Oh, I bet," Rixas laughs, lifting his arm. Gohan dutifully pulls him and Rixas gushes with pride. "I taught you that."

The teenager scratches at the back of his head, smiling. "I suppose…"

"Did you see that, Roarg? I taught him that!"

"Yes, very nice. Quite excellent."

Rixas slaps him hard on the back. "I don't care what you say. Had I tried that a year ago then your shin would now be snapped into two halves. Times are a changing, little brother! We should drink to celebrate!"

"Stop pestering him, my lord…"

"Eh… c'mon, Mori."

_Things really are changing…_

Gohan looks down at the wooden sword, suddenly not feeling so good about his achievement.

* * *

' _Quell's watching from the Winter Pavilion. It's only time.'_

_Unidentified note written by Lord Mori of Revelation_

* * *

And this is where it went from bad to worse for Gohan.

It'd been months since Gohan's last visit so he has no reason to be surprised. Myra had barged into his room as she always does and screamed her throat hoarse until Gohan made his way into the conservatory. He's not late this time, yet Quell appears the exact same as always –as if he'd been waiting all day long for him.

He looks up from his book and gestures Gohan to sit in his usual spot. Tea goes without saying and the teenager takes a long sip to appease the god.

"You have been spotted devouring the library of its collection," Quell says not without amusement. "Myra tells me that you enjoy reading anything you can get your hands on. This is reassuringly like my brother of old."

Gohan hums. Even after all this time, he's still angry at the god. How dare he call him his brother? Gohan's brother is called Goten Son, and he's the only person who gets to think of Gohan as such. Even when Rixas' stupid face comes to mind, his stomach continues to twist with stubborn fury.

Quell, undeterred, tucks stray hair behind his ear. It's pulled into an elegant hairstyle of plaits and weaved design. It's rather girlish, surprising Gohan just a bit. Actually, now that the teenager thinks about it, he looks exceedingly put together today.

"I've just come back from a journey westward," he says after a sip of tea. "When I returned to my chamber I found messages from Doctor Jivel referencing missed sessions with Doctor Hezk. We have not spoken in many, many weeks, Mori, as I have been busy and thought you would value the space, but I have been mistaken. Or perhaps, it is because you have suddenly come to remember yourself? Remember everything of who you are? Remember me –which I doubt because, yet again, I need to tell you to _look at me and_ not at the _blasted_ floor!"

Gohan rotates his eyes up.

"Look at me, Mori."

He does, and he hates what he sees. This man is ruining his life. Still, he holds his tongue. The familiar sway of Quell's pressure threatens from the background, but Gohan refuses to fold to it. It could break his spine and Gohan wouldn't care.

"You still train with Rixas despite my requests for you not to; you avoid your memory sessions in opposition to my requests for you to attend more. Really, Mori, one might think you'd be doing this out of spite."

"It's not like that."

"Oh? I believe otherwise, but that's most likely because I can see through your paper-thin front. You're acting spiteful. You're still angry about your mortal life, aren't you?"

Gohan says nothing. He fumes. He grabs at his cup when his hands require something, anything to do.

"Your obstinate alter-ego display might have been endearing for a while, to some. But it's time for you to hurry this along. Do tell me, brother, has Doctor Hezk or Jivel at least mentioned the essence yet? My patience can only be spread so thin after all."

The anger cracks only long enough for his curiousity to rear. "…What?"

Quell's eyes narrow and he brushes his fingertips through long, blonde hair. The act makes Gohan shuffle in his chair, now feeling akin to prey. His fists ball beside him, however.

But instead of the usual harsh words, Quell somehow finds it in himself to explain cordially. "The Essence of the Almighty. It's the elixir crafted from the spirit of the Almighty itself; a sacred potion kept here at the estate and within my care."

"No… they have not… spoken about this," Gohan manages, mouth dry.

"Pity," Quell responds, pouring himself some more tea. "I would have thought they'd have brought this up by now. Care for a top-up?"

Gohan shakes his head, numb. "What does this elixir do?"

Over the rim of his china, Quell surveys him, and then says; "Kill you, of course."

"Wh-What?"

"Well, in a manner of speaking," he continues, smacking his lips after a sip. "It actually destroys you –or, at least, the unimportant fragments of what is foully polluting your soul."

"I don't und-"

"It will strip you of your disgusting mortal nature," he quickly spits with revulsion. "It will forever cleanse the filth stopping you from soulfully connecting to your roots as God of Revelation. Forever you shall live. Your godly body won't rot with time, and you will remember your higher existence. You will taste true godhood as it should be savoured."

The cup slides from Gohan's fingers and shatters when it hits the ground. Neither acknowledges it. "Immortal… I wouldn't be… able to die?"

"Perish. You wouldn't be able to perish. Death can come should someone be able to take your life, but I dare them to try it. I will rip the heart from any creature foolish enough to harm the collective." Gohan swallows as Quell grows ever more intense. "You will exist as a perfect being, like all true gods of the Almighty should. You will become divine.

But right now, as disgusting as it is, you're living a half-life, one which screams of the bastardized wrongs which need to be righted. Whilst you most likely won't age much more in your current form, your soul still harbours the impurities associated with your old mortal life… The only way to right that is for you to consume the essence."

Blood rushes to Gohan's ears and before he knows it he's on his feet.

"I'm not giving up my humanity! I'm a mortal!"

"How ghastly," Quell chokes. "Don't say such things!"

"I'm not drinking any essence or elixir. No way. I… I may have been Mori but now I'm Gohan Son. I refuse to abandon my identity."

"By the gods, Mori, can you hear yourself? Of course you're going to take the essence! Your soul must remain perfect. Any fractures can cause… who knows what?"

"You speak like mortals are some sort of… of plague or—I don't know! But how are they any different? What are the differences? I don't feel _any_ different."

"You have yet to become whole! Only then will you understand, you fool! To compare gods and mortals is a ludicrous joke gone too far! For you to not understand your place –your _ranking_ \- is abhorrent enough but to question the system… Mori…" Quell stands, his own tea forgotten, and stares over the bridge of his nose down at Gohan. "You _will_ drink the essence."

The pressure, like waves battering at the sea wall, becomes unruly.

Gohan winces, his chest compressing. "I r-refuse."

Quell's nostrils flare. "It is not a request. You WILL drink it, and you will take your place beside your brothers. Even if I have to decimate half of the universe for you to see sense then I will."

The teenager's breath hitches but he has nothing to say.

Quell breaks the silence. "Don't you dare test me."

Still, Gohan holds the god's stare. It hurts to do so. The pressure mounts, stealing the oxygen. Proudly so, he still manages to stand with a straight back. "I-I'm a mortal," he proclaims, "like my d-dad, like my family and l-like my friends. I won't throw that away."

Quell's lips upturn into a nasty snarl. "Your form disgusts me, Mori. It's unsightly. Until you see sense… I have no interest in speaking with you again."

He walks towards the exit and regards Gohan as though he's filth. "Do as you wish. See how far you sink until you beg for my help, brother."

The door slams, and Gohan breathes furiously. Despite wanting the god off of his back for a while now, he can't help but feel like this isn't the last he's going to hear of this. And so, instead of relief, he's swept by both the hurricane of rage and the current of Quell's lingering pressure.

His fists pound down against the flooring and he screams. He's just so sick of it, he shouts and hollers until a flurry of words he shouldn't know come spiralling out. Gohan's heated skin presses against cool tiles, and it's at that moment where he accepts this change.

He accepts how much his life has turned to… well, to shit.

* * *

Gohan catches Rixas only moments before he's due to leave the realm. He snags on his brother's shoulder just as he reaches the edge of the estate grounds.

"Hey, Mor—Eh, what's up? Have you been crying?"

"Take me with you."

Rixas jostles. "I, uh, I don't think you'll like where I'm going."

"I don't care," Gohan tells him, "I just can't stay here. I can't be in this stupid place any longer –even if that means going and drinking myself stupid with you. That's fine. You know, I actually don't hate the idea of it anymore."

"Mori…?"

"Rixas," Gohan says lowly, squeezing his brother's arm. "I'm finally taking you up on that drink you want to buy me."

The god, dim in the evening light, turns to give Gohan his entire attention. Ugly concern which makes Gohan angry radiates in droves. Gohan doesn't want concern –he wants –he wants…

"I want to go with you."

"Was it something Quell said?"

"Does it matter if it was?" he snaps, "You're not going to challenge him, are you? You're supposedly some ridiculously strong god, yet you can't stand up to Big Brother even when he's being an evil bastard."

Rixas grabs his arm. "Stop it."

He snatches himself free. "No, I won't. And I'm not sorry, either. I'm sick of apologizing. I'm –I'm sick of it all. I just want to forget about it just for one night. Are you really going to be so cruel, _brother_? Take me with you."

Thickly, the air grows heavier between them. Gohan's breathing hard. Whilst his eyes are steel, Rixas still can't manage to meet them. They wobble in alarm. Around them, the evening songbirds are singing lullabies, and the chirp of insects act like the ticking of a clock. Rixas must know that he's only got so long before Gohan feels the sting of rejection.

He swallows, looking oddly numb and subdued. "Alright then. Yeah, alright."

Gohan can't quite believe his luck. His breathing evens out. He nods. "O-Okay."

They stare at each other, both probably feeling as equally lost. Rixas clearly has no idea what to do here, but he's definitely the more social-savvy of the two and so he moves forward.

Gohan accepts the arm around his shoulder, and accepts being pulled away from the estate and all the way to some bar in the middle of nowhere. It's here where Rixas silently presents Gohan with the same pink tangy-smelling drink he had ordered him once upon a time ago, and it's here where Gohan proceeds to make his brother proud by downing the entire thing in ten-seconds flat.

It burns all the way down, tasting very little of cherries after all. Rixas proudly smacks him on the back, and Gohan actually laughs when the other patrons cheer for him.

In fact, they order him another one, and then another, and then another.

* * *


	11. Inebriation

**Age 776**

**?, The Globe Bar**

"Shut up, shut up. He's lying. Oh my god, he's _lying_." Gohan slaps a palm over the idiot's yammering trap, but the damage is done and the group around the table is laughing. Gohan is laughing too.

"Goodness gracious me, do I look like the sort?" Rixas plays to his audience. A chorus of heckles follow just as he goes to finish his story. "What? You don't believe me?"

"They don't believe you because you're a rotten liar," Gohan tells him, effectively shouting. It's loud in here. Music thumps around the bar with its techno beat. He's surprised he can even hear himself speak.

One of the girls on Rixas' arm says something inaudible, but Gohan notices Rixas laugh for her anyway. Meanwhile, the girl on the other side of him reaches over and snags a sip of his drink. Rixas doesn't mind. If anything, he seems pleased by it. His eyes have that sultry look about them, the look which tells Gohan that he could very well be returning back home to the estate alone tonight.

But that's not down to the lack of effort of the girl on Gohan's right. Her arm has brushed his at least three times in the last five minutes. How many times does he need to shuffle away? It happens again and Rixas notices. The sly smirk makes the teenager want to reach over the table and throttle the ass.

Gohan stands and scuttles past the girl and out of their booth. "Bathroom," he hollers, and Rixas just nods. The girl Gohan leaves looks mollified once she's pulled into his brother's growing harem.

He actually doesn't go to the bathroom at all, instead choosing to order another drink from the bar. The trendy barkeep already has the bottle in his hand before Gohan arrives, and so the teenager takes the icy beverage and strolls on by. The guy knows to add it to Rixas' tab. They're here often enough.

Gohan enjoys the numbing sensation that comes with the first glug. It's not bitter at all. In fact, there's a sweet undertone that makes him think that he might be drinking a fruit beer; like he'd know. Gohan typically drinks whatever Rixas suggests to him –apparently the guy has a gift for understanding Gohan's taste buds better than even he does.

He walks through around the bar. It's busy tonight, busier than usual. Dense crowds of dancers occupy the dance floor near the speakers. With varied levels of sobriety, they throw shapes in sync with the music and lambast limbs all over one another. Gohan continues, and it's in the depths of darkness that he finds a character completely out of place, and with great amusement, he takes his spot beside her. The woman turns with a tired sort of expression, raising exactly one brow. A flash of colour douses her pink and blue when the lights flash in their direction.

Gohan grins and offers her a drink of beer. When she shakes her head he's not at all surprised, shrugs and then takes another sip.

"Roarg, you look really conspicuous," he tells her in the sweet silence between songs. "Like you're waiting to mug someone."

"I might very well do just that," she says. "What, with this boredom." The music starts back up and Gohan waggles his beer in her face again. She pushes it away and gives him an annoyed sort of look Gohan knows she doesn't really mean. "I'm working," she has to shout when Gohan insists further.

He pulls a face and retreats his offer. "You can have _one_."

"What?"

His voice rises. "You can have one!"

She gives him a strained smile, one admitting to having heard none of what he'd just said. There's a flex of the hand as she gestures him away. _Go have fun_ , she'd tell him if the music wasn't loud enough to burst ear drums.

And he is having fun. He's dressed in something other than stuffy robes; a loose top and a pair of dark pants. The loss of weighted cloaks feels strange each time he goes without now.

Yes, it's great being away from the Realm of the Almighty, and somewhere they're not recognized. Whenever Gohan would attend check-ups at the Infirmary or go along with Rixas to the centre, they'd be known. Here? They're invisible. Over the last few weeks they've been coming to this watering hole regularly. Rixas won't tell Gohan how he'd persuaded Quell to let them go, but Gohan has a feeling it's to do with having someone always stand guard as they drink.

Yet, the Globe Bar feels safe enough. And when was the last time anyone had attacked? The last person to try anything was that Zealite a couple years back. They're fine. Gohan's sure of it.

He takes another swig from his bottle and heads back over to the table –not alone, of course. He brings shots.

"I'm paying for them, aren't I?" Rixas asks when Gohan sits down with the tray.

"Yes and thank you for buying top shelf." He passes his brother a shot which Gohan believes to be filled to the brim with glitter.

"Wow, I'm so generous."

Gohan distributes shots to the small crowd at the table. The usual vultures come swarming and so he passes them some too. One burly guy snakes an arm around Gohan's neck and cheers his name –not his real one of course.

Gohan gave the name Mort if only because it's close enough to Mori that he'd respond.

"To Rex and Mort," they call.

Rixas sends Gohan a look of amusement, and they both down their shots. It's like drinking fire. Gohan coughs and the burly guy slaps him on the back. The girl from before has managed to find her way back to him too. She slinks up to him with arms like an excitable octopus; they roll up and down his back as though it's her first time encountering someone like him. Gohan recoils as if burned. He presses another shot into her hand for her troubles, and makes his way over to where Rixas is not so subtly laughing at him.

"Shush," he tells him, "move up. Let me sit."

Rixas looks between the two girls either side of him. "I don't think I will. I'm pretty good over here."

"Rix— _Rex_ …"

He smiles back, blinking innocently. " _Mort,_ go make friends. She looks _friendly_. _"_

The girl gives him a predatory grin from over the other side of the table. "Too friendly," he grumbles.

Rixas then shrugs, now absolved from helping the teenager. Gohan shakes his head and sips his drink. The next time Gohan turns to him, the animal has his tongue down one of the girl's throat.

"Great."

It's later, in the alley behind the bar that Rixas tipsily brings it back up. Gohan and Roarg were tasked in collecting the drunkard after Gohan had noticed his two lady-friends leaving. If Rixas had indeed done the deed with one of them it must have been somewhere in this dingy area.

From the look on his face, he most certainly had. What a pig.

"You're disgusting," Gohan says when he collects him from the floor.

In rebuttal, he bops Gohan's nose. "You're a virgin."

"R-Right." Gohan sees no shame in denying it. Admitting it in front of Roarg does make him oddly uncomfortable however. Dutifully, she makes not a sound.

"See, that explains it," Rixas continues wisely from his position over Gohan's shoulder. "You've never had a girlfriend so you're scared of girls."

"You know I had a girlfriend."

" _Sure_ you did, my little cherry."

"Please don't say that," Roarg finally comments. "It is highly disturbing."

"Agreed, and as the designated driver of this piggyback I get to veto your creepy behaviour."

"Seems fair."

"Water," she then offers. As the water bottle passes hands Gohan can't help but feel a little jealous. Why does Rixas get the good assistant? All Myra is going to do when they get home is berate him. She's been extra sour recently –she hates him going out as much as he does. All she does is complain. Quell this, Quell that. Really, Gohan feels like she just secretly hates his happiness.

Water slops down Gohan's shoulder as the dolt glugs it like a man dying of thirst. He smacks his lips after he's done and then presses his face into the crook of Gohan's neck. Brandy breath warms his collarbones. "Not that you'd know but sex is thirsty work."

Gohan recoils. "Don't be so crude."

"Heh, heh…"

Roarg steps forward before Gohan has time to drop him on his ass. "Do you want me to take him?"

He shuffles his brother up. "No, it's fine. I'll carry the pig."

"You love me."

"Like a tumour."

"Don't be such so wet. If you're a good horsey then I'll give you a bottle of the sweet red you like when we get home."

"You better."

Arms circle around Gohan's neck and Rixas settles in for his usual comfortable ride home. If the guy could purr he would.

"Let's parade the strip, brother. I want the peasants to bask in my afterglow."

This time, Gohan does drop him to his ass. There's a grunt on impact, and the teenager acknowledges Roarg with a strained smile. "Yeah, alright. You take him."

* * *

Gohan's hiding from Myra again. His hiding place isn't very original, and she'd most definitely find him should she really try. But that would involve her going somewhere most distasteful, a place she would rather burn than enter a pinkie-toe. It's a place even Gohan rarely visits if only down to the absolute state it's usually in. Right now, he hides in Rixas' room, more precisely; his bed.

"Water," Rixas rasps into his pillow. "Or death. Pick one but make it fast."

Gohan crosses his legs and re-angles his book for comfier reading. Ignoring Rixas' very noisy hangover comes easier to him than Myra's squawking, but he does pass the invalid a bottle of water out of kindness. There'll be a day when Rixas will have to repay it, he supposes.

The bottle crackles as Rixas squeezes the contents free. The water is vacuumed. He discards the bottle and crawls over to the teenager's section of the bed. His grabby hands appear needier than usual.

"Why did you bring _shots_?"

"Why is your tolerance for alcohol so low?" Gohan counters. "Aren't you millions of years old?"

"I'm weak," he sobs. "I'm such a weak man. Oh why, Mori? Why did you bring the cursed shots?"

" _I'm_ fine."

"That's because you sip your drinks like a lady of the court."

He clambers over and rests his head against Gohan's forearm, stinking up the place with the awful concoction of morning breath and dehydration. He shoves the idiot away. "Go back to sleep."

"I can't. The world is spinning. Read me a story."

"It won't interest you, there aren't any pictures. It's about ki and its dangers. I don't think you'll like it anyway, and we'll just argue about semantics as usual."

"That's because you're wrong. It's the ki _user_ who is dangerous –not ki."

"Pretty sure the user wouldn't be dangerous without ki."

"It's a _right_."

"It's a hazard."

Rixas rolls back to his side of the bed, huffing. "Ugh, it's too early for this. I hope Myra bursts in and takes you away."

Gohan laughs, licks a finger and turns the page. If Rixas hadn't been so busy with his conveyer belt of admirers last night then he might not have consumed everything blindly placed before him. The guy always overdoes it. Maybe Gohan should return the favour to see how he likes it. They've been going to bars and clubs for months now and Gohan's yet to be the one thrown over a shoulder like a used and abused duffle bag. Whilst it'd been some getting used to; seeing Rixas at his worst, or best depending on who you ask, Gohan's found that going out is the far better alternative to rotting away inside his library all day. They train, they play, Gohan reads and is bothered by his assistant, Rixas… does other Rixas things, and then they repeat the cycle.

It's not the life Gohan would have chosen but… he's living…

He's living, mortal and proudly so, and is going to mortal places to be amongst them. If Rixas can then so can Gohan. It's here in these foreign places that Gohan can breathe, that the weight of the Almighty lessens, that for the first time he was able to truly sense the energy signature of Rixas. Animalistic and hot, it runs with a flavour entirely Rixas. How wonderful it had felt. With the strange relationship the Almighty has with ki, Gohan hasn't been able to sense anyone properly in months and months. Feeling everyone around him had been like plunging into ice water. He'd felt… so alive, so alive and connected to the universe. Still, Gohan recognizes that he must keep his own energy subdued. That'd been the deal. Gohan keeps his ki low or he stays home.

That'd been Rule One. Rule Two is not to bring anyone back to the Realm of the Almighty, hook up or not. Whilst this isn't a problem for Gohan, Rixas seems to struggle -most certainly the reason Gohan often finds him in precarious situations with men, women and anything resembling a bipedal. The dark crevices of clubs and bars are the pig's favourite.

Said pig is apparently a mind reader. "Say, remember that girl from last night?" he asks.

"Which one? You had many-"

"No, the one who liked _you_."

Gohan purses his lips, brows knotting. His book lowers and he finds Rixas watching him with a strange sort of expression. He doesn't like it. " _Liked_ me?"

"You know, the girl. Blonde. At the table. Shots. You ran away with your willy tucked between your legs."

Gohan hits him with the book. "Stop being gross."

"But you remember her, right?"

"Right…" He doesn't like where he's going with this.

"She was pretty hot."

"Mm…"

"And clearly liked you-"

"Rixas, just say what you want to say."

"Okay, fine." He flops up, suddenly energetic. Hands clasp together over the bundle of duvet. "Why do you keep cock-blocking yourself? I just don't get why you won't accept a good thing when it's being thrown into your lap. Oh, or are you asexual? You weren't _before_."

"I had a girlfriend!" he repeats for what must be the hundredth time. Rixas snorts. The guy _still_ doesn't believe him. The teenager grits his teeth and slams his book shut. "You want this discussion? Fine. Alright. I didn't…" he coughs, flushing pink, "take her up on her o-offer because I'm not a total degenerate. I wasn't raised so… to be so liberal with that kind of stuff."

Unimpressed, Rixas is blank faced. "Sex?"

Gohan's brow twitches. "Yes, that."

"Man, talk about being repressed. Just where were you living before? A convent? Eh -Oh, oh, Mori, don't go. Come back. I was kidding."

"You're being an asshole. Nope. I don't want to talk about this now." He's already up and out of the bed. Myra be damned, he'd rather that than this.

"Eh, why not?" He manages to grab Gohan's shirt before he's gone. It takes a lot not to bring the book down hard on the idiot's head. "You're a big boy. How old are you –like, er, the new you? The Gohan you."

The book twitches in anticipation. "I don't know… Nineteen, I think," he grumbles.

"Eh?"

Gohan almost slaps himself. "Probably nearly sixty, in Almighty time."

"Okay," Rixas says in a soothing tone that's supposed to calm him. "Alright. Sixty. That's not too young, you know, for this stuff." He pulls lightly enough that Gohan feels compelled to sit back down. "Why does it freak you out so much?"

"It d-doesn't." But it does, and Gohan doesn't know why –except, maybe he does a little bit. And Rixas isn't as dim as he appears. He gets people in a way Gohan doesn't, and he gets Gohan in a way Gohan doesn't too. So of course he sees right through him.

"Are you religious or something?"

"No, it's nothing like that."

"Scared?"

Gohan scratches at his hair. Gosh, it needs a cut—

"That's it? You're scared?"

"No," he replies quickly, "I mean, yes but only a normal healthy amount, I think. But… like I keep _saying_ , I had a girlfriend back on Earth. Rixas, I, uh, I really liked her. I loved her, you know."

" _Loved_." Rixas parrots slowly, "So you don't now?"

"N –ye… I don't know. Yes. I think so? I don't know. She's… probably forgotten all about me now already anyway."

"So this is about… a girl?"

"Videl," he says in a small voice. "I… we weren't together long but… I just think of her when all these girls try anything with me. I think of how we'd never go to these kinds of places, and how I've become seedy, and how we'd just have picnics together or cloud gaze. We would do our homework together too. She… We…" His words perish, and Gohan's bluer for it. He feels younger than the first day he'd arrived in this prison.

His brother leans over, running a hand up and down the back of the teenager's neck. "You know what they say? Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or lose –and that goes for love too, Mori. You let go of that life, remember?"

"I know," he breathes. "I let go but it feels wrong to look at anyone the way I looked at Videl. She's the only girl I've ever felt anything for."

"Jeez, you don't need to whip out an engagement ring or anything. It's just sex. Sex is a completely natural and, if I do say so, beautiful thing. It's the connection between two people –or three or four depending on what you're into."

Gohan spares a look of disdain.

"Don't knock until you try it, is all I'm saying." He laughs. "And stop being a shitty prude. I'll have you know that before you regressed into being a monk you definitely enjoyed a healthy amount of company."

"Stop. Please stop."

"So yeah, sweetie, you lost your virginity long before you even met, what's she called? Videl?" His eyes dazzle with a mischievous golden sparkle. "I'm sure the bout of handholding and stolen kisses were life changing but don't you think it's time to take the next step? Like you said, she's gonna' move on herself. Your life is dead there. It's time to live here, and _live_ you could."

His chest hurts as it always does when he thinks about home—no, Earth, because Earth hasn't been his home in years now. The Almighty is his home. Rixas is his brother. Mori is his name. Even with Gohan leaving the realm, he couldn't ever go home and return to who he was. Not only would Quell come and ruin everything, drag him back, make him remember his place, but he would quite possibly kill Gohan's friends and family whilst he's at it. Gohan doesn't remember much about Quell but he feels, instinctively, that Quell is not someone to cross.

"You're not going to see her again," Rixas says, "so you're just punishing yourself for no reason. And really, are you sure it's not just another way for you to claw onto your old life?"

It most certainly is that.

"See it this way," he then continues, and the teenager turns with a hunger for any good advice. Rixas appears especially earnest. "Some of us think holding on makes us strong. But sometimes, it's letting go. There's no right answer, but I know which one will hurt more in the long run."

Gohan swallows. He nods, "Right."

"Remember: head high, chin up, and legs apart."

The book smacks the idiot hard across the temple.

* * *

Gohan considers this all fate when, that night, he has his first full-scale flashback in the form of a very cohesive dream. Similar to his other flashbacks of fleeting quality, Gohan's in the driver's seat of Mori's body, except the car is self-driving and he's actually just there for the ride.

Something Gohan had noticed the first time, which doesn't escape notice this time either, is that Mori seemed to love looking through a curtain of blonde hair. It's annoying, and Gohan would do anything to be able to control his hands to tug it behind his ears. On this principle alone, Gohan hates the guy. Beyond the waves of mane, he can just about make sense of the location. Mori is in the garden, hidden under the shade of a tree long gone, with a book Gohan's sure he recognizes. It's dense and intimidating-looking, with a red bind and gold-edged pages. Mori's not reading now however. No, he's currently spectating something Gohan has yet to see himself; Rixas and Quell training.

This must have been the courtyard many a year ago because it looks to be in far better condition. Grooves of decay have yet to appear on the walls and the surrounding fences are proud and lofty, definitely not like the wild foliage which has absorbed the area today. It's in the centre of this where Rixas and Quell are exchanging a flurry of hand-to-hand attacks. They duck, weave, cross, dodge and move so smoothly around each other that they could be dancing. Gohan finds it mesmerizing in its own right, and Mori must too because he's not looking away. Gohan doesn't think he even blinks.

It's strange seeing Quell like this as well. He's usually stiff and delicate, and sturdy and graceful all the same time. But here, it's different. No longer does he wear the heavy layers of robes Gohan has to wear, but instead he dresses for liberation of movement in the style of a sleeveless gi. It's tight against the skin, only growing loose from the midriff down after meeting a secure obi, all in colours best reprehensive of Quell. He's always loved his white and gold, after all. Still, it looks good. Quell suits it, Quell suits fighting as much as Rixas does. It looks as natural as breathing to the both of them.

"You have been training, brother," Quell says, skidding back against the dirt. Clouds of dust steady behind him.

Rixas is huffing and puffing like Gohan's never seen him before. "You bet," he manages, "who showed you that casting punch?"

Quell is as smug as to be expected. "Are you impressed by me?"

Rixas snorts and rubs at his nose. He's smirking. "I'd be more impressed if you defeated me with hand-to-hand combat alone. You've always got to get freaky with the ki."

"Oh, do behave. You know I do _not_ need ki to defeat you."

"Arm wrestle! C'mon, me and you."

Quell laughs. It's a short bark coming from the back of the mouth, something which makes Gohan think the guy sounds like a complete toff. "Bore off. A troll can hit harder than the knight but it's still always the latter's victory."

"Ehhh, what does that even mean? Let me go get the swords. We can-"

"Really," Quells sighs. He's moved to unfasten the practical knot atop his head. Blonde quickly sweeps all the way down his back, possibly longer than it is currently. "Have we not trained enough today? I have yet to meet with Famis. We are entertaining several kais and their disciples today, and I would rather not host stinking of that most repulsive salve after we end up slicing each other open."

Rixas groans, pestering and pestering –and it's during this familiar white noise that Gohan realises that Famis is still alive at this point. Gohan doesn't know much about the forth brother (chronologically second), the one who'd mysteriously died thousands of years back. He only knows that it had been murder and that Quell is still rather sensitive about the entire ordeal. Rixas doesn't bring it up either, and from what little Roarg or Myra can tell him, it was most likely before their time. Gohan can only consult his library on the matter, and even that seems to tell him very little. It seems that Famis had been poisoned, and that's all to be known.

Well, that and that Gohan knew Famis wasn't a fighter in the same way Mori had not been. Famis had had a talent for magic, whilst Mori utilized ki. Whereas Quell and Rixas had been the aggressors, it seems Famis and Mori had different, less-forceful positions.

Gohan is then reminded of Mori's openness from an earlier acquired memory, one where he'd thought about learning more about martial arts. He'd been interested.

"You could have used your quad crush to end things sooner," Gohan finds his mouth saying. His voice sounds the same but there's a smooth element to it now, a soft confidence.

Quells turns and Gohan's surprised to see the faint outline of a smile. "I could have. Well spotted."

"Don't go helping him!" Rixas complains. He's absolutely no different at all.

Mori stands and Gohan feels himself moving along with him as he approaches Quell. Despite this, his words are for Rixas. "Your back hand strike was embarrassing. _Sloppy_ doesn't begin to cover it."

"Ehhh, _Mori_!"

"Your book," Mori then says to the eldest brother, offering exactly that. "Thank you. I cannot say that I am overly fond of fiction but I found the tale intriguing. The happy ending surprised me. To be honest, I'm astounded you enjoy it so."

Quell takes the book back and smiles – _smiles_! Gohan nearly drops dead on the spot. He doesn't even look like the same person, as though someone had appropriated his image for their own nefariously benevolent deeds.

"Yes, well," he begins, the cold snootiness dissolving into something warmer, golden eyes oddly open. "Embarrassing as it is, I rather enjoy it."

"I enjoyed yours and Rixas' fight much more," Mori praises further. "I do wish to watch you more often. Your casting punch is spectacular, especially when you rapid fire it."

Quell peacocks. "Wait until you see it when I charge it with the pressure. Then you'll be impressed."

But Mori already is. There's a stirring inside the body, and whilst Gohan can't emotionally feel it, he's able to sense it. He's able to understand.

"Wah. Where's _my_ love, little brother? My attacks are way stronger."

"Hush, Rixas. I'm lapping up the praise. Heavens know I'll need it before dealing with today."

Rixas makes a face behind the elder's back, but Mori seems more exasperated by the action than amused. What does get his attention is when Rixas proposes to collect Mori's sword for him, and an offer of a duel. Mori's heart flips at the idea, but Quell's less keen. Rixas runs in the direction of the weaponry anyway.

"Such dangerous work," Quell says, clicking his tongue. "Wouldn't you rather be studying, Mori? Physical activity is hardly your forte."

"I have always been keen on fencing, brother," he replies silkily, "I enjoy the leisure of it."

"Must you?" Mori stares him out, and to Gohan's great shock; Quell sighs, relenting. "Hmm… Very well…"

"Rixas never uses his full strength."

"I should hope not," he says very much like the Quell of late. Next, he moves to swipe his fingers through the long strands of blonde –again, another very Quell move. His gaze drops over to where he spots Rixas returning with two swords. "I do wish you would choose hobbies not akin to putting anything sharper than a spoon into his hands. It does worry me."

Mori's smile feels easy, slick like oil. "I'll be fine."

"Then you know where to find me should an incident occur." He turns to collect a robe from the ground in a very similar fashion to how Gohan would on his training days with Rixas. "Be well. Don't let him mentally devalue you too much in my absence."

"Oi," Rixas growls upon his return. He points both swords at the elder brother. "Come take me on then, you colossal cheater! No pressure! No ki! Just me and you!"

But Quell's long gone. He's made his way up the pathway on foot and has disappeared into an alley most likely leading to his ward.

"What an asshole," Rixas says, but there's a big grin plastered on his stupid face.

Gohan wants to smile at it, wants to return it in full. Mori, however, just reaches for one of the swords and twirls it in his grasp. It's smooth and comfortable to hold, with a decent sized hilt Gohan's not seen on a sword in a long while. The training one Rixas has him use isn't great. Even to him it feels flimsy. Yet this one, hilt gold along the framework and bottom, but red otherwise, sings a familiar song. It's like Gohan really can recognize it, and not just from the depths of Mori's cloudy memories.

Mori swings the sword back, his posture following. The weight of the thing is so great that the only time Gohan's reminded of was when, back on the Planet of the Kais, he'd managed to free the—

And that's when he wakes up, breathing hard and feeling nauseous.

_The Z Sword._

* * *

Gohan wastes zero time asking Rixas about it. The next morning, he dresses and dashes along the flowery paths of the estate. He takes steps in threes and fours and flies the remaining feet upon spotting Rixas doing his morning stretches. He's in the courtyard already, looking so similar to how he'd done in Gohan's dream last night.

Rixas waves. "Good morning, don't you look energetic this mor-"

His words drop, as does the smile -and Gohan's soon to see why. A clawed hand digs into the teenager's arm and he's yanked back hard.

"Oh no, you don't!"

Gohan's body flops back, and then he sees his pursuer.

 _Myra_ …

"You are scheduled with Doctor Hezk this morning, Lord Mori," she tells him crisply.

Her grip on him is too strong and he's hauled back along the path he'd just taken. Rixas sends him off with a sympathetic smile and salute, as if he's going down with ship. Maybe he is. Maybe Gohan's due to sink lower and lower until all he can see is Myra's stupid blue head bobbing above him with fresh orders.

Gohan doesn't fight when she actually gets him. There's been many a time that he's hidden or escaped her wrath, and won the battle. Terribly, this new and very wicked part of him enjoys watching Myra storm off in a huff when that happens. Today is no such day and so he complies all the way to the solarium, the one east and coupled with the library. It's also the one he and Doctor Hezk meet in on a semi regular basis. It'd actually been her to suggest meeting here instead of his living space. At first he'd been unsure because Gohan values the privacy, but they're rarely bothered here. Occasionally does Gohan spot an odd-looking fellow tending the plants in the garden but that's it.

Gohan also doesn't mind because it's bright and airy and very unlike his quarters. When things get too heavy he can zone out and stare across the acres of land, he can enjoy the view.

One view he doesn't enjoy is the hungry look Hezk is giving him this morning.

"Hello," he grumbles at her as he sits opposite. The impressive armchair engulfs him whole.

"Oh! I'm happy to see you this morning," she says, which is Doctor Hezk for _'wow, you actually turned up'_.

"Uh, yeah." A wave of sudden mischief overcomes him. "I had to convince Myra to let me come," he then follows up with, and the reaction is worth it. His assistant looks close to suffering a hernia, cheeks round like two little blueberries ready to burst.

"Now, why do I find that hard to believe?" Doctor Hezk replies, pulling out her notebook. She flicks through all the notes she's tallied on him. It's enough to fill most of it now. "Let's see… that last time we met-"

 _You turned up_.

"-was three weeks ago."

Gohan scratches at the back of his head, sheepish. "I guess it's been a while."

"It has," solidifies Myra, angry in the doctor's stead. "You have a schedule for a reason, Lord Mori. I believe that if you looked at it a bit more often than you do you'll see that-"

"Yes, yes, thank you," Hezk dismisses. She wags an irritated pen at her, gesturing to the door. "Please do close it on your way out. It's a bit chilly today."

The teenager bites his bottom lip, trying not to laugh. He can't help the escaping titter when Myra makes her girlish ' _hmph'_ noise that she does before turning, head high, and leaving the room without so much a glance back.

Hezk clicks her pen and smiles. It's a hunter's smile. "Let's get started."

Gohan gulps and thinks about the bottle of red he'd swiped from Rixas the other night. He promises that if he can get through this then he'll treat himself to a glass. It's like drinking caramel, and the indulgence will make this so much easier to forget.

It's business with her in a heartbeat. "Will it be much of a stretch to ask if you finished the task I set you?" His face must be a blank because she elaborates. "The journal."

Gohan looks anywhere but at her.

The smile drops. "I see," she sighs, pinching the space between her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"Writing down your memories is the best thing you can do to help us create a linier narrative of it all," Hezk informs, but it sounds a little like she's scolding him. Gohan bristles at it a little. "Once we're able to form a semblance of a timeline then you'll better be able to call up on others."

"I know…"

"Your notes don't need to be impeccably detailed, Gohan, just something to help you keep track."

"I'll write more," he promises, even if it's just to get her off of his back. Her disappointment lessens and he knows what to say next to further help his case. "I had a dream last night actually –it'd been a longer memory than usual."

Christmas has come early for the doctor, her eyes pop open and she scoots up on closer in her chair. "Bird's eye. No, wait, first person viewing?"

"Yeah, that. Like I was him. It'd been really weird in that I actually felt everything Mori did –to a lesser degree, but I understood the emotions all the same, I think. Just more subdued…"

"Ahuh. Any aftereffects? Nausea? Dizziness? Oh! How about lingering emotions perhaps?"

"Nausea. It went away after a while though."

She scribbles something down in the notebook almost feverishly, and Gohan knows that he's been absolved of earlier sins. At one point, Gohan thinks that she might stab through the paper. Eventually, she peers up. "And this was your _first_ one? Dream, I mean."

"Yeah."

"Okay, tell me about it."

And he does. He tells her everything he can remember –which is quite a lot, mind. She tells him so and is clearly impressed. Once again, she presses on about him keeping a diary of these memories and dreams, and about how it'll make a difference in the end. Yet Gohan doesn't feel comfortable with it. It's odd. The idea of writing it all down feels so… _wrong_. Gohan's not a private person by nature; he's always been a bit of an open book and so it's strange that it feels so off to share.

And still, he does. He also tells her about the Z Sword.

"Wait." She holds up a hand between them, and Gohan stops mid-story. "This is the same sword you freed back on the Planet of the Kais? For certain? Are you sure?"

Gohan scratches his arm. "Yeah… I'm a hundred percent sure. "

She runs the pen along her lip, and then turns her attention to the collection of notes she has on him. Page after page is flicked by and Gohan can only watch in daunting silence as she keeps him waiting.

"You know," the doctor eventually says, "I'm not overly surprised considering past circumstances."

Well, that's a bit cryptic. Gohan doesn't like where this is going. "What do you mean?"

"See here." And she shows her notes; they're all lined with terrible chicken scratch. There's an expectation of reaction from him but he can't make sense of it of all. "These highlighted bits here, Gohan; these are times that you've mentioned lapses in memory from your time on Earth. See. Look, you've actually talked about a few of them in detail. They usually constituted in a significant power increase, right? A power unearned."

Unearned is a bit harsh…

"Your energy level would rise astronomically, and you'd have enough power to defeat whatever foe you'd be facing. Convenient, _right?"_ The pen clicks and points in his direction. It clicks and clicks and clicks as her face becomes rosy in excitement. "I may have a theory to what was happening."

The nervous laugh bubbles out before Gohan can swallow it. "Let me guess; you think that I've been calling upon Mori's power all along?" The laughter dies when Hezk makes no move to correct him. "Wait, you're joking."

"I'm not. Look at the facts. You charge your little saiyan head in to all these battles, unprepared and totally not qualified, and still end up surviving due to a sudden burst of power. It comes from an unknown source and you lose complete consciousness as it happens, or, at the most you, can remember very little."

"I just had a lot of power as a kid, is all. My dad said-"

She gives him a look like he's stupid. "Come now, Gohan. Let's remain objective."

"So, what? Okay, let's be objective." He folds his arms and leans further into the chair. "I would get these rushes of power when pushed into a corner. That's adrenaline, Hezk. Lots of people experience it during life-threatening situations."

"Enough to injure Frieza? Enough to do the things you did as a small child?" Hezk forgets herself as she does when the passion takes her. "Don't be so obtuse. You're ignoring the connections out of convenience -be open to the idea of it because it's a real possibility! Even today, you told me about this sword."

"That's got nothing to do with the black-ou-"

"Influence," she says simply.

He stares her down. "Influence."

"Yes. It's not at all uncommon for reincarnated souls to follow a certain path in their lives down to how they lived previously, be it job or perhaps their partner. Let's amplify that for you. Let's imagine how the reincarnated soul of a god would live with all that power whirling around inside. I'm no expert on ki but I imagine it must have been itching to see the light of day. Of course it was going to rear its head when it needed to. It would have been self-preservation -a reaction to the situation, one which would have been a normal response if it had still been the ki of Lord Mori of Revelation and not Gohan Son."

"And what's that got to do with influence –with the sword?"

"I'm glad you asked." She flashes him a not at all professional grin before turning around and rummaging through her bag. A modest book is produced. "A superior of mine wrote a lot about _influencing_ in this book of hers. I'll leave it with you so you can have a read after I'm gone."

For the first time, Gohan has zero has intention of reading a book.

"In this book, she talks about those big decisions like I'd just mentioned. But she also talks about energy, something maybe you'll be more familiar with than I am. Ki bonds closely to the soul, and Lord Mori in particular apparently had a lot of the stuff. As you already know, he specialized in ki manifestation."

" _Right_."

"From what you told me about the Z Sword, it had recognized something _in_ you for you to be able to free it. It'd recognized who you were –are."

Gohan scowls, something rotten and ugly stirring about in his chest. He doesn't like this at all. " _I_ pulled out the sword as Gohan Son. It had nothing to do with Mori."

"It had everything to do with him! Don't you see? He's been guiding you! That sword was yours long before you found it on the Planet of the Kais!"

"He didn't guide me! The Supreme Kai took me there!"

"But _you_ wouldn't have been able to free it without being who you are."

"We can't know that," he defends. "Just because the sword was his once upon a time ago, it doesn't mean that me freeing it was only down to our connection."

Her reply isn't steadfast. Instead, she raises a brow and runs the pen along her lip again. "Wow. Then that would be a heck of a coincidence, huh?"

The teenager huffs. "Don't patronise me."

"Gohan, see sense. The Z Sword was once Lord Mori's. As Gohan Son, you freed it when no-one else could _because_ it answered to only one master, a master who was most likely shaped by its prior life's sway and decisions." It's stated so matter-of-factly that Gohan feels silly even arguing with her. "Ignoring these connections is like ignoring the bridge to progression."

God, he really hates her sometimes. He groans and runs his hands up and down his face, pulling at the skin, running over his eyes, massaging where the headache is now growing.

"The Z Sword confirms what I've been thinking for a long while," Hezk coolly tells him, notebook in lap, now closed. "Your life as Gohan Son has been interwoven with Lord Mori's ever since its conception."

Gohan breathes a haggard breath and opens one eye between his fingers. He regards her, feeling growingly exasperated with it all. "You're saying that Mori's been controlling my life all along? That's it, right?"

The fact that she doesn't says no says everything to him.

* * *

Gohan feels the slick of steel slice through his arm. His own sword clatters to the ground, and he swears, catching the wound to stop the pooling of blood.

"That was dirty," he hisses.

"It was," Rixas agrees. He lowers his weapon, smirking. "When have I ever fought otherwise?"

The comment ruffles Gohan's feathers for some reason. "Do you have no honour?" He clicks his tongue when he removes his hand. The red is running thick and fast now. "A bandage, please."

"Here, Mr. Reverent." Rixas watches on with a smug kind of look. "You know, fighting fair is a sure way to get you killed in a sword-fight." Gohan shoots him a look. "It's true. Historically, foul play was not only expected, it was par the course. If you think the best swordsmen are virtuous then think again."

"I think that's a very convenient reason for you to act like a dick."

"Oooh, so spicy," he coos. "Just because you session with Hezk was shitty, it doesn't mean you get to bring that negativity with you. Either let it go or put down the steel."

Wasting no time, the teenager stabs the sword into the ground and takes a seat beside it, wrapping the bandage around and around bitterly. It's easy for Rixas to tell him to drop it, but he doesn't even understand what's going on in Gohan's head. And really, is it even Gohan's head? Or is it Mori's? Gohan doesn't know anymore.

Gingerly, Rixas takes a seat beside him. "Wanna' leave it here for today?"

"Just give me a sec to sit down," he snaps. "Let's see if the bleeding wants to stop before you skewer me further."

Rixas snorts. "Wow. Today really was _that_ bad, huh? Wanna' talk about it?"

"No, I don't."

"Bottling it up won't help."

"I just said I don't want to talk about it."

"Right, right. Okay."

They sit there in awkward silence, mostly due to Gohan's obstinacy, because whilst he knows that he's being a grumpy idiot, he doesn't want to give in and apologize. He's just _so_ annoyed at everything.

And it's bad when the giant man-child decides to be less stubborn about this than him. He feels a touch of shame when Rixas eventually sighs and stands back up, stretching. He then wedges Gohan's sword free and chucks it back at him, smile at the ready.

"Get up," he says not unkindly. "Let's shake it off."

Abashed, Gohan nods. "R-Right."

Bygones are apparently bygones because Rixas is ready to continue Gohan's lesson. They've covered a lot over the last few months, and the teenager had discovered that he's not as proficient at the art as he thought he was. There's real technique to it that goes beyond the hacking and slashing Gohan had been doing as a kid, and even with the Z Sword. Rixas has already gone over footwork, how to properly hold it, and how to deliver a good swing. Lately, he's been pushing the general principles.

It's funny, he thinks, because Mori was probably half-decent at this. When more memories return to Gohan, will skills follow? Will Gohan be able to wield a sword like Mori once had? Will he able to call upon his ki at will?

"When will we learn about ki?" he blurts out.

Rixas blinks. "Ki?"

Nodding, Gohan feels a bit embarrassed about mentioning it. He didn't mean to come across as ungrateful or anything. Rixas trains Gohan because he's just nice like that (well, he'd pretty much twisted Gohan's arm on the matter), and Gohan's happy to do it because the routine is the one thing that keeps him from going crazy. Still, the teenager can't help but hope for an answer.

The god swings the sword above his shoulder and thinks the question over. "Mmm… I dunno. I didn't really have the intention to go over it to be honest. I've always thought that you'd come into those memories at some point… You were the specialist before, after all. There's not much I can tell you about it that you wouldn't know. Besides…" Rixas coughs, looking a bit put out. "I'm not very good at it."

"Really?"

"Really." He nods, solemn. "My control sucks."

"Oh… wow. You're just so strong that I assumed…"

He waves a hand at the teenager, gesturing the thought away. "You weren't bad with a sword _before_ , but you would have never been able to train with me like you do today. It's a balancing act between us. You sucked at fighting but you were good with ki. And I'm terrible with ki yet I'm the biggest, baddest combat fighter around. On the other hand, Famis used to be ridiculously good with magic whilst neither of us could do shit with it."

Gohan dares ask. "And Quell?"

"Well, he's special, ain't he?" Rixas wryly smirks. "Big Bro is the leader. He gets a taste of all three skills, _and_ he gets his pressure." He wrings a hand through the scruffy mop atop his head. "Totally so unfair…"

"He's that strong, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. He's the real deal, alright." Rixas chuckles and gives Gohan a pitying look. "If there was one person who could help you with the ki thing, it'd be him."

"Great."

Rixas barks a laugh. "Alright, grab Old Rusty and let's continue with our lesson. I want you to be better familiar with recognizing and performing deception. We're gonna' make an immoral swordsman out of you yet."

Gohan falls into position, wielding his oversized butter knife. His blade splits the image of his brother into two halves. With a hardened gaze, he watches as Rixas settles onto the balls of his feet for a speedier set off.

"Remember the general considerations of adequate sword-fighting, Mori."

He dashes fast, but Gohan's sword manages to capture the contact. The ringing of steel on steel scrapes hard against the emptiness of the courtyard and the teenager barely stumbles back in time.

"The physical condition of your body is of great importance," he continues before pressing forward. His sword strikes fast. "You're injured on your left arm. Even if I couldn't see the bandage, I can tell by your form. You need to hide it better."

A sharp ripple of agony courses up his arm when Rixas' blade clips at the wound. Still, he manages to deflect the swift second coming, dodging and kicking his aggressor away.

"Next is your general awareness. You're actually very good at this, Mori." To prove this point, Rixas fazes behind Gohan just to be repelled backwards. A slice against his shoulder is the reward for his brashness. "Excellent. You've always been perceptive like that. Yet…"

Rixas comes at him again, this time it's head on and with so much aggression that Gohan isn't sure on how to react. Instead of utilizing his sword, Gohan sidesteps and avoids the attack entirely. "Your confidence seems to have plummeted. It's better than it was when you first came here, I suppose. We'll keep at it."

Gohan frowns. "I'm just fine, thanks."

"Pah," Rixas dismisses, "when you can talk to girls for longer than ten minutes without running away then I'll believe you."

_Asshole…_

The teenager plunges forward, swiping the sword left and right in quick succession. Up, down, up, down, up, down; it falls against his opponent without a single ounce of triumph. There's not even a graze for his efforts. Frustrated, Gohan tries swivelling the thing and hitting Rixas across the face with the hilt, but he's too slow and suffers for it. Rixas' own blade slices along his other arm.

"Damn it!"

"Your presence is lacking too. I'm not at all intimidated." Rixas curls his blade around in taunting circles. "Though, I'd blame that on your shitty timing too. I can tell you're in a bad mood today." A whistle leaves him when his weapon comes to a halt. "Wow, look at all these considerations of sword-fighting I'm listing for you. Aren't I so kind? Now, wonderful student, can you tell me the last three?"

"Caution," Gohan spits out, pressing his hand against his newest wound.

Rixas laughs. "Yes, of course you'd remember that one."

"You give me every reason to be cautious of _you_. You don't know how to take it easy at all."

"How well you know me, little brother. Can you remember another consideration?"

Gohan bounces on his feet, trying to keep his body in motion. The adrenaline is kicking in. Soon he won't even be able to feel his injuries. "Rhythm," he finally says, still lightly jumping between feet.

"Excellent," Rixas praises. "And that leaves just one more."

There's no time for an answer, however. It's not unexpected, but still impossibly wild and quick in how Rixas comes at him a last time. His sword is but a flurry of after images, jutting like stop motion mid-air in its antagonism, and becoming easier to recognize only by the sounds of whooshing metal blowing by Gohan's ears. With great effort, the teenager avoids his brother's swings, reading the next with only so little time to spare.

He finally brings his own sword up, low from beneath Rixas' knees, with the ambition to cut him there. However, the plan changes when the opposing blade raises high, glistening in the intense rays of the sun. It's blinding but Gohan knows what he must do. His motion shifts and Gohan brings up his blade to block instead of attack.

And that's when Rixas gets him, not with a sword but with a knee. It cracks **hard** into his liver.

Gohan's on his knees, winded and almost sick, when he feels the touch of steel under his chin. He raises his eyes to meet the mischievous glint of his brother's.

"Deception," Rixas whispers, lips pulled wide.

Panting sounds between them.

"I should have followed through on my attack," Gohan eventually wheezes out.

The cold tip of metal descends. "Yes, and that's the sort of _confidence_ we need to work on."

Gohan breathes hard, capturing the dirt between his fingers as his chest beats immeasurably fast. "Confidence," he repeats. Sweat trickles over his brow and Gohan watches it as it turns the dirt sodden. "I think I need to work on more than just that…"

"You'll get there." When Gohan raises his hand, Rixas pulls him up and gives him a solid slap on the back. "So… you ready to talk about it yet? What happened with Hezk?"

An anxious pang in his chest replaces the breathlessness. Instead of sharing his worries, he asks his brother a question.

"Actually…" He clears his throat. "Rixas, I was wondering…" It's been bothering him since talking to Hezk, yet it's like twisting his arm to get him to say it aloud now.

"Yeeeeah?"

Gohan itches at the back of his head. "…Do you really see me and Mori as the same person? I mean… just now… you compared me to him, with how I, or he, used to be. I just don't get how… how you can. I don't get how you can call me by his name when, even as I start to remember _his_ memories, I don't feel any different."

"Eh?"

Gohan scratches at the back of his head, scowling. "What I'm trying to say is; how is it that you recognize me as Mori when I'm still so clearly Gohan?"

"No, I got your question," Rixas clears up. "I'm more confused about how _you're_ not seeing it."

"What? What do you mean?"

"You've been becoming more like him every day. Don't you think? Your habits, your interests –even your mood swings; they're changing. I'm surprised you haven't noticed. Everyone else has."

"W-What?"

"Even Quell had noticed enough to try reaching out to you. I think maybe it was a bit _too_ soon though, you know?"

It's like being doused in cold water.

The teenager sucks in a deep breath as his mind goes into overdrive to deny it. But Rixas' words scream in his mind over and over again.

_I'm surprised you haven't noticed. Everyone else has._

"I've not changed at all," he tries. It sounds weak.

Rixas swivels his sword again, a brow raised high. "You sure 'bout that?

"I…" Gohan's mouth grows dry.

_I've not… I'm not him. I'm not…_

_Right?_

* * *

As earlier promised, long before everything went from bad to worse, Gohan does reward himself with the bottle of red when he gets in that night. He also rewards himself with berry liqueur, port and something he actually can't quite identify. Who cares? It burns on the way down and that's the important thing.

He ignores Myra's clanging and banging about his door, taking vicious satisfaction when she finally crumbles and leaves. He's already pretty wrecked by this point, as is his bedroom. Books lie in haphazard piles around the room, some torn and others obliterated in his fury. They lay around smashed-up pieces of furniture, judging him. They judge him for his stupid fucking drunken rage.

He'd cry if he hadn't run out of tears years ago. Gohan can't cry anymore –maybe that's the Mori in him. He laughs; a bitter and spiteful sound. He laughs because there's nothing else he can do.

Gohan Son died years ago, and Gohan Son is going to die again.

He lifts his wine bottle and gives cheers to his ceiling light.

"Mori is me," he tells it, slurring.

He then takes another glug of red and falls back against his beaten mattress.

"Gohan never existed, huh? It's _always_ jus' been 'im."

Eyes press close. His chest grows heavy.

"Fine."

_I concede._

* * *

_You did not begin when you were born, nor when you were conceived. You have been growing, developing, through incalculable myriads of millenniums. Your previous self has its voice, echoes, promptings in how it influences your journeying in life. Reincarnation of the purest essence of our soul does not happen, but reincarnation, renovation and evolution of ideas do. These conceptualizations are the foundation for shared living between your past and present. With cohesive existence, only then will you find peace with yourself._

_Reincarnation: A Reflection of One Thought_

_Page 1_

* * *

**Age 776**

**?, The Globe Bar**

The bathroom mirror never lies.

Gohan's face is flushed rosy. He's quite possibly glowing with it, along with wide, diluted eyes, he looks a mess. His hair is wild tonight –but not in a bad way. It's fine. He can work with this. Clumsily, his hands streak through the locks, and he almost slips in his stupor when he gets a bit carried away.

Over the thrum of base, Gohan can hear the crowds cheer for something. It's muffled to him even though the door is crap and there's holes punched out of it, Gohan can barely hear.

His head spins, and he grabs the mirror.

"It's time," he tells his reflection.

Golden eyes shine so brightly that he can barely take anything else in. The dingy bar bathroom disappears into the background, and it's just Gohan and Gohan. He trails his fingers down over his own face, staring as the stranger beyond the glass stops being just that because…

_It's time._

_It's time to say goodbye._

The teenager wobbles against the sink and splashes water over his face. One last look is offered before he leaves the bathroom for good.

Straight away, the music _screams_ at him. Raging guitar riffs fill his head, making it even harder to think, making the fuzzy static crackle ever louder, and making everything _easier_ to manage. There's a dance floor he must pass through and Gohan feels a swarm of hands run over him as he survives it. He might have stayed if he wasn't so determined.

Nearing his destination, Gohan spots Roarg at her usual spot by the speakers. Maybe she likes being slightly deaf too. She gives him a wave when she catches him staring, or at least Gohan thinks she does. It's all a bit blurry.

After a pit stop at the bar, Gohan arrives to his endpoint and thuds a tray of shots down on the table. He slaps Rixas' hand away when he tries for a pink one. Gohan pushes something stronger his way.

"Oh my god, you're fucked," Rixas tells him as if he doesn't already know. There's a giant fucking grin across his ridiculous face.

Gohan laughs and takes his seat in the booth. As he takes his shot, he feels a creep of warmth along his thigh. The smile doesn't leave his face as he peers down at the girl nestled under his arm. He can barely make out what she looks like now, but he remembers her to be pretty. She has a pretty name too, he thinks. Maybe.

The girl says something but Gohan has no idea what. There's something sly about her, about her smirk, about the way she keeps looking at his lips… Lethargically, he watches her take the shot, watches as she slams the shot glass back on the table and hisses. And then she turns back to him, smiling. It's that same sly smile.

Before she can say anything, he tilts her head back and presses his lips against hers. The warmth creeps up his thigh and everything blanks out.

The next morning, Gohan wakes up nude, sticky and still inebriated.


	12. Let's Face the Music and Dance

* * *

There may be trouble ahead,  
But while there's music and moonlight,  
And love and romance,  
Let's face the music and dance.

* * *

**Age 777**

**Space Station #341, The Hazy Strip, Bar #32**

Beyond the line-up of cubicles, hidden behind a rusted door and against the script of graffiti, two bodies press against the decay. Neither care, groaning, gyrating, as the music from next door keeps them in pace. The beating of rhythm hums in the backdrop as he throttles his body hard against hers, her thighs pulling him closer and deeper whilst he breathes in the musk of her perfume. Damp, he presses his forward against hers. She's grinning as she kisses him, and Gohan drunkenly laughs, breathless, as the room sways around them.

Over the toilet, he shifts her and re-angles his body. The rotten stench of the hovel means nothing to him now. There's only him and this girl, here alone as the music hollers from beyond. The beat climbs and climbs until racing flashes of colour skid across his vision. From the way she grasps onto his shoulder, he knows that she's feeling the same. Her kisses turn sloppy, and then die on his lips.

"Fuck," she curses, breathless. Her hands curl around his neck as she leans all her weight against him. They stay like that until the next song starts, naked from the waist down and sweating. When he goes to pull himself free, she yanks him back.

"Again?" she purrs.

Gohan laughs and drags himself and then her up from against the wall. "I need a drink."

She seems to like that well enough. Dressed, they emerge from out of the toilets and into the hustling club. It's over capacity for sure, with the heat of thousands of bodies keeping the enormous dance floor sweltering. Steam hangs in the air as she drags him through the crowds. There's chaos as spotlights wildly bounce into vision, unhinged. One moment he's blind, the next, red and blue shade his entire worldview. He stumbles into it, loving the instability.

The girl turns and mouths something to him but it's _so_ loud in here. Gohan grins when she gives up, and then proceeds to drag him in the direction of the bar. After battling through a sea of people, she leans over it; Gohan firmly pressed behind her, and orders for the two of them.

"Did you get _it_?" he asks her. To answer his question, she turns around and presses a small bag of something powdery into his hand along with his drink. " _Yeees_."

Away from the bar, he opens the bag and sprinkles the contents into both drinks evenly.

"Bottoms up," he says, giving cheers, and then downing the entire thing. She does the same, eyeing Gohan with growing lust. He returns the look, smirking.

It's unfortunate that he doesn't see her again from that point on, not that he can remember much of it.

Hours later, Gohan comes to with one arm around Roarg's shoulder and another around Rixas'. They're outside now, with the break of daylight teasing the dark skyline, harbouring the temptation of warmth; gold against blue. Whatever star hangs around here can't be too close –Gohan's freezing. Even with Rixas' stinky pimp jacket over his shoulders, he's shivering, enough so that his teeth have started chattering.

Under his arms, Rixas and Roarg are talking. Gohan can't make out what they're saying but it doesn't sound too serious. Sometimes, when they lumber out of clubs with Gohan as their baggage, they talk about him in these solemn tones and low whispers that he hates. Well, it's more that Roarg talks smack about him being a lightweight and Rixas defending him –he's good like that, even with his smelly pimp jacket.

They stop briefly and Gohan feels a bottle of water being stuffed into his mouth. He coughs and splutters but whoever is doing this to him is relentless. Water courses down his throat without mercy until Gohan is next lowered against a wall for support, which is excellent timing because the entire street has started spinning.

"Myra is going to freak out," Gohan hears his brother say, slur really. He hardly sounds much better than him. There's a hitch of panic. "Think she'll tell Quell?"

"If we get him some food he should be fine," Roarg replies, but she doesn't sound wholly sure.

Gohan wafts the water bottle away from his face. "Mm' fine."

Rixas ruffles his hair. " _Oh_ , hello, Sleeping Beauty."

He grunts, pulling away.

"How was your night? Have you been _busy_? And if so, _how_ _busy_?"

"You're a pig," Gohan manages.

Rixas leans down and bops his nose. "We're both little piggies now."

Roarg's voice cuts through. " _Food_ , please."

It always impresses Gohan how Roarg can remain both respectful to Rixas and impertinent at the same time. A long sigh echoes as she watches Rixas disappear down a long stretch of takeaways. She then batons the bottle of water between her hands, probably thinking about how she's going to deal with today's drunken idiots. Gohan, meanwhile, just hopes that whatever the dolt brings him back is deep fried and slathered in cheese. Resting his head back, he closes his eyes in wait.

Just as he goes to nod off, icy fingers angle his face up as she pours more water past his lips.

"You stink something rotten," she tells him as he obediently drinks. "Were you sick?"

Gohan's lips pucker as he pulls away. No, he bloody wasn't. "It's _his_ shitty jacket."

Roarg chuckles as she lowers the water. "There is no shame in it."

He peers an eye open and gives her his best glower. An outline of morning sun envelops her frame, making her too shiny to look at it, and the way her braid keeps smacking him across his face as she bottle feeds him is oddly endearing when completely sloshed.

_This close up, she's not exactly hideous to look at._

And with her vision in mind, his eyelids pull close and he's plummeted into another ice-cold memory, another _dream_.

* * *

They're not irregular, especially these days and especially after drinking, but each dream is becoming harder to decipher, to separate from what is Mori's past and what is Gohan's. Sometimes, Gohan dreams of Earth. They're shiny dreams, sparkling as he recalls different memories and experiences. He'd dream of his dad mostly; about his chaotic childhood and the times they'd tried to spend together without the universe pulling them apart, about the many times his dad would go…

As if to confuse him, Gohan's and Mori's lives also intermingle. Situations would blur and people would fuse, melding together into something familiar and ugly and making Gohan twist in displeasure as he watches the concoction unfold. Rixas' face would be everywhere –on every person on Earth, and his dad would become Quell, and Gohan would feel sick with the lot of it.

However, Gohan knows that this is entirely Mori's memory today, because he's sat a hair's breath away from Quell, with the latter managing to look magnanimous as he pours Mori a fresh glass of wine. They seemed to have done this a lot; sit, drink, and talk as they look over the estate's impressive scape. Gohan feels Mori's soft comfort –his affection, he notes with mild disgust—when he's with Quell, the sort of feeling he'd probably most associate feeling when with his dad.

As _usual_ , the two are discussing books or research or whatever else Gohan really can't get his head around. It absolutely came as no surprise that Quell is as much a history buff as Mori and the two talk hours about topics Gohan can't bring himself to care about.

"This is far too tarty for my taste," complains Quell as he reads the label aback of the bottle. "Next time, we try something from the vineyard westward."

Mori doesn't mind, however. It's sweet enough and so he takes a generous sip before gesturing down to his stack of research papers. "I compiled my analytics on Rixas'… _performance_ at the Battle of Grey Skies. I think you were right about his ki utilization growing weaker –it had been even more of an abysmal display than usual."

Quell smirks as he collects the papers, eyeing the writing with a fondness Gohan's only ever seen spared in these memories. "Now, now, little brother, not everyone has excellent energy control like yourself. Do spare him some sympathy. It would be the same as expecting you to perform well on the physical stage."

Something about the comment discomforts Mori, but he's quick to bounce back. "I suppose you are right. I just find it strange that despite his efforts, he cannot improve."

"Balance," Quell replies, throwing the papers down. "Between all four of us, there is a tug and pull of such abilities. There's only so far each of us can stretch our growth, and whilst Rixas cannot be expected to perform a competent ki blast, you cannot be expected to cast magic at Famis' level."

Mori takes another sip, staring over his brother's head and into the setting evening sun. "Such is the way of the collective."

"Correct. This is why I don't understand your insistence on duelling with that strange little sword of yours."

Mori hums but says nothing. Gohan, however, feels his head swim with a variety of emotions. Mori's frustrated, a regular emotion for the god, but he also feels, what Gohan strangely thinks to be… _smug_. Mori seems to feel very satisfied about something –Gohan's unsure of _what_ that is exactly but he's guessing it's something to do with the Z Sword with how his chest flutters when Quell continues on the subject.

"I do admire it, though. It's rather fetching in design so I'm not surprised you're so taken with it."

"Its simplicity is a part of the charm," Mori agrees.

"But, I do think you should allow a blacksmith here in the realm to access its strange properties. It has an odd ki signature which needs-"

"It's quite alright," Mori interrupts softly, "I've already examined the sword in great detail. I'm comfortable that it's safe to use, and the power being released from it only makes me more enamoured with its mysteries."

Amused, Quell leans back into the soft padding of his chair. "Tch, you and your _research.._. Yet you'll tell me nothing of it, will you? Not even of where you got it?"

"Of course not, brother."

"What little surprise," he laughs, "Don't change, Mori. You do amuse me so."

But Gohan knows where Mori must have gotten it, or at least, must have put it back because Gohan later retrieved it himself. Had the kais not noticed? How was it that it had come into Mori's possession in the first place? And why would he care about the sword anyway –feel so smug about it—when there'd been the Elder Kai stuck in it? Something tells Gohan that he must have known, or at least understood that there was something fishy about the sword.

"Have you spoken with the destroyers yet?" Mori next asks, smoothly changing the subject. "Beerus seems famished for devastation these days. Three high populous planets were destroyed this year in his name for the restoration of balance, but I see little balance about it, especially when considering the rumours."

"Oh? And what rumours are those?"

"One," Mori begins, leaning forward, "is that the destroyer has a weakness for anger. Apparently, he destroyed the planets out of reaction –something to do with offending his status, heaven knows what was said—but it matters not, as any other reason beside duty is worth little." Mori says it all very levelly despite the rage in his chest. "Someone in _his_ position should take it far more seriously than he does. He is an embarrassment to godliness."

"Beerus does as Beerus wants," Quells replies with a sour expression. "No matter how much I complain, the beast thinks he is above order. What else did you hear?"

"That the destruction order had been in response to the rebellion being initiated. That's hardly about protecting any balance, no matter how the kais frame it," Mori puts out there, still calm, far calmer than he really feels about this. "The Zealites will respond."

Quell hums, tucking stray hairs behind his bejewelled ear. "You think the kais were attempting to quash them?"

"Don't you?"

"Honestly? I believe the Zealites matter very little."

"It is the principle. The power at-"

"I think it doesn't concern us."

"Brother…"

"Let the destroyers and the kais play politics. We serve the Almighty and the old and true ways. When politics blinds them then it is our duty to realign our focus onto what truly matters, and that, Mori, is acting as the Almighty's vessel."

For once, Gohan feels exactly as Mori does; disgust. But whereas Gohan would say something, Mori says very little, choosing to nod and drain his glass of the residing red. "Of course."

"Another?" Quell offers.

"No," Mori says, smiling, smiling so pleasantly that whilst Gohan knows it to be a false one, even he could be swayed. "I do apologize for cutting our meeting short, but I promised Rixas my companionship tonight."

"Oh. Oh, all right then. Then don't let me keep you."

Mori stands, and so does Quell, accepting Mori's courteous bow of the head with an offer of a smile.

"I'll visit with you when I return from my venture," the older brother promises, "Do enjoy your research whilst I'm way. I'm eager to hear whatever you choose to tell me about it. Keep safe and wear your mask where you should need to." Gohan feels Quell's hand rest atop Mori's shoulder. "Be well, little brother."

* * *

When Gohan awakes, he's still slightly drunk. And he lies there (somehow back in his own bed), reminding himself, as he does after most memories, what a piece of work Quell truly is –and how much he hates him, and how much he is nothing like his father in any way whatsoever. Then Gohan spends the rest of the early morning trying to forget about both his father and Quell, and then forget about Mori's simmering frustrations.

That's when his door starts to rattle from the abuse.

"Open this thing! Open it; I know you're in there, Lord Mori." More bangs follow and Gohan's almost tempted to rise from his bed. "I'll—I'll break through the window if I have to!"

Gohan reclines further into his covers and stares over in the general direction of the door. He'd love to see that, actually.

_I wonder how long she's been knocking…_

More banging follows and Gohan is a little impressed with the perseverance; whatever she wants must be important. When the knocking deescalates from banging into tired, meek taps after ten minutes, he decides to take pity and get up. It's just sad when she gets like this. When he opens the door he finds that his assistant has dissolved against the frame, looking like the world had given up on her.

"Good morning, Myra," Gohan greets with enough chirp to hurt her.

"Lord Mori," she caws from the floor, "you were supposed to meet Lord Quell an hour and a half ago."

"Oh, it must have slipped my mind."

She doesn't buy it, scrambling up and trailing after Gohan as he turns back into his room and strips from his nightwear.

"Y-You stink of alcohol."

"Thank you for noticing. Pants, please."

"Lord Quell's still in the forum, my lord," Myra says as she passes him his folded pants from off of the dresser. Gohan tries not to visibly roll his eyes as he sticks one leg through the fabric; Quell could be in Gohan's bathroom and he wouldn't be able to care less. "His assistant tells me that he's still willing to meet with y-"

"Thanks but no thanks."

"Lord Mori-"

Gohan whirls around, holding two very identical looking cloaks. "What do you think, Myra? Oxford blue or Prussian blue?"

The notepad in her hand slaps against her own cloak as she stares him down. "This is important."

"I know…" he sighs, and then considers the cloaks again. "They're just _so_ different."

The young man knows he's probably gone a step too far when her blue-tinted skin starts to burn purple. It feels horribly good to watch her seethe, plus he's still sour over yesterday's events of her confiscating his collection of mortal candy so it feels especially satisfying. What kind of assistant steals from her boss? She's not a helper, she's a hindrance.

"Lord Mori," she starts. _Oh boy._ The notebook slaps against the dresser before she points it towards him, her eyes now an aggressive red as Gohan tries not to visibly sag. "You were out _again_ last night, weren't you? Out of the realm, right? Lord Quell clearly forbid such actions, forbid you from going out of the realm without-"

"Rixas was there," he defends, waving the Prussian blue (?) cloak in admonishment.

"Like _he's_ any better."

Gohan snorts. "Myra, that's nearly a treasonous comment if I've ever heard one."

"My loyalty is to _you,_ my lord, not Lord Rixas. I can have my opinions on him."

"Loyalty to me means not running around doing Quell's bidding on a Sunday morning. I told you yesterday that I didn't want to meet with him."

Myra stiffens. "I _cannot_ say no to Lord Quell. You know that, sir."

Neither can Gohan, really. There's only so long he'll be able to put off this meeting. Quell doesn't habitually organize meetings like he used to. Usually, he only requests Gohan's presence if he needs to pass along a message or give him a direct instruction, such as; 'don't leave the estate alone' or 'stop speaking in languages other than Lanit Tongue'. But more often than not, he's not around. His role as the eldest has him predisposed to trips away, meetings in far-off lands, and doing whatever else the guy gets up to whilst Gohan hides from view.

"Tell him that you couldn't find me," he says snappily, "In fact, tell him the truth if you want. He's going to hunt me down anyway, better be it on my head than yours, I suppose."

"Lord Mori…"

Gohan breathes out, harsh, exasperated. " _Mori_ will be fine, Myra. How many times –or Gohan, you can call me that if you want."

"I could never," she repeats as always, and as always, Gohan shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. Myra watches, quiet, until _finally_ she says the magic words befitting her role as his assistant. "Would you like a tomato juice, sir?"

Gohan forces a smile, "Yeah, that'd be great, thanks."

He drinks the juice on the go, thankful enough not to be angry at Myra for bothering him this morning, but not thankful enough to go and meet with Quell. Whatever he wants can't be good, and whilst Gohan thinks it might be about his rendezvous outside of the estate, he also suspects that if Quell was truly angry Gohan would already know about it.

Instead, he makes his way down to the courtyard to complete his daily training.

* * *

In the courtyard of the estate, the clashes of steel against steel hiss in quick succession, rolling, over and over, as two after images bounce around the grounds. It's with impeccable speed that swords ricochet in their silver dance, singing whenever they meet, whispering in frustration when they miss. Gohan's sword appears the more frustrated, hissing as it slices down at where Rixas was supposed to manifest. Instead, the smarmy idiot appears at Gohan's other side and rests the cool blade against the vulnerability of naked skin.

Rixas grins, enjoying Gohan's gulping beneath his sword.

"Nearly," he says simply, and Gohan nods. Nearly indeed.

Gohan's getting better, faster, _stronger_. And whilst Rixas still bests him in the matter of everything (which isn't using ki; something Gohan had hilariously discovered when Rixas couldn't so much as summon a slither of energy), Gohan has noticed the gap between them grow thinner. Even now, he watches as his brother's chest rises and falls faster than it used to. Speckles of sweat have now spread into wet patches, and over Gohan's laboured breathing, the hitches of lost breath rattle about Rixas' throat.

The younger of the two puffs his chest. "Need a little rest?"

"Ehhh, don't tease me, sweetie. I'll slice and dice you and then serve you up to either Myra or brother-dearest."

Gohan snorts, helping himself to water as Rixas collects both practice swords and sheathes them. There's a satisfying sound as they fall into their rightful places. "Are you leaving the realm again today?"

"…I am."

"You know, sneaking around all the time will only piss off Que-"

Gohan clicks his tongue and squeezes his water empty. "It's not like I'm returning to Earth. There's only so long I can stay around here without going crazy."

"And who are you going with?"

"A book. It doesn't hassle me."

Rixas groans. "You shouldn't be traipsing here, there and everywhere without protection. If Quell knew…"

"Like he doesn't," he scoffs in reply, "and I've been travelling to different stations for the better part of a year, for so long that he must have noticed by now and yet he's said _nothing_. It's not like I'm going to war-torn planets. I'm only going to regulated locations."

"And if you see someone you know there –someone from your mortal life?"

"I _won't_." And then bitterly, he adds. "I'm dead, remember. It's not like they're looking…"

Rixas still doesn't look reassured but Gohan finds he couldn't care less.

"If you get to come and go as you please then so can I," he next tells him, raising a hand to silence his brother when he goes to speak, "It's not up for debate, Rixas."

Something sour passes over the blonde's face as he reaches for the training equipment. "I forgot how stubborn you are."

It's not that Gohan's stubborn, it's more like he's determined; determined to at least have a semblance of individuality away from the realm and even from Rixas. They're practically connected at the hip these days. When they're not drinking, they're training, and when they're not training, they're only down a few hallways from one another. It's only natural that Gohan's craving the space, the freedom. Even the solo trips into the Spire centre stopped being enough many moons ago, as with being as well-known as he is, it was hardly a private affair anyway. Quell has eyes everywhere.

Although, Gohan knows the trips around the Spire hadn't been entirely fruitless. Many books had laid unopened, awaiting Gohan to purchase them. And, with great satisfaction, finally he could enjoy something that isn't factual and depressing, something that isn't drivel about either the estate, war, ki, history or whatever else Mori loved to dampen his mood with. And god, did Mori ever love his books about _history_. Gohan thinks he'll tear his eyes out if he so much as looks at a historical book cover ever again.

And over the top of the pages of these history books, Gohan would gaze out over the spectacle of the Spire, over the hilly buildings, and over the sea of rapidly differing faces, all making their home here, practically in his backyard. Proudly, he has been able to look upon the centre with appreciation. The Spire is also host to some of the most intricate and breath-taking architecture Gohan's ever seen (including his recent travels out of the estate). Plaited builds, interwoven in a fabric of brickwork, knots together under the green of vines. The haphazard effect is charming, something Gohan would have believed to have been out of fairy tale should his local bar not have been smack bang in the centre of it all. And whilst Gohan still enjoys its beauty, he yearns for _more_.

And so, one day, he left through the doors of the estate, as he often did alongside Rixas when travelling to foreign lands and made his way to the teleportation gate. The lone adventure had been everything Gohan had needed, and more –he'd only gone to their previous hotspot bar and ordered himself a single drink, before returning home. But it'd been the first step, and since then, Gohan's travelled to a variety of places alone. Libraries, parks, bars, scenic spots; Gohan's seen some of the most wondrous places he could have only dreamt about once upon a time ago.

And with a strange realisation, Gohan's come to find that language barriers aren't as much of a problem as they ought to have been. Mori, apparently, had been quite the linguist. Gohan's come to find himself comfortably replying to someone with words unknown until moments before. This has happened so many times now that he's lost count on what phonics belong to which language, and what phrases belong where.

To add to the experience, the people he meets are all varying in flavour. Some are welcoming, whilst others don't give him the time of day. Old people, young, and everything in between, Gohan finally feels like he's seeing existence as the spectrum that it is. Earth is a bubble, a tiny and insignificant world with limited reach. And as much as that'll always be his home, he's learning, _understanding_ , the universe as united place; a society. With the heights of individual micro-societies, Gohan's found that the lows are both humbling and maddening. Class separates all everywhere, it seems.

And war is in abundance. Yes, Frieza is gone, but his empire still remains, fragmented and fought over by the many power players lurking about the depths of the universe. Gohan's been tempted to involve himself, several times in fact, but he knows not to… knows that, with Quell looming over him, he can't. It's funny in some ways, with Gohan's most recent dream, because Gohan's been thinking so often about the horrors of the universe, and about how little they seem to do as gods.

In fact, one day, Gohan had actually watched one planet explode from a far-away space station, only later to read that some evil bastard had blown it up after failing to conquer it. Millions died, and all Gohan could do was sulk about it over dinner. Rixas hadn't even cared.

"It happens all the time," he'd said, mouth stuffed with bread.

With so much power, Gohan doesn't understand why they've never involved themselves in the first place. It hurts thinking about all the change they could bring the people, all the good they could do. Yet… they do nothing. Gohan, too, does nothing.

He drinks, trains, and does _nothing_. Oh, he takes trips. That's about it. And when he gets home from a these trips, Quell is nowhere to be seen. But on those rare days that the terrifying asshole does frequent the estate, he ignores Gohan's absence in the first place (though, that might have to do something with Quell just ignoring him entirely). Sometimes, the ignorance annoys Gohan, and even though he should just count his blessings that he can continue doing as he pleases, he can't help but revel in the frustration that Quell oversees and allows all this evil to continue in the universe.

They're gods. That should count for something.

Apparently it doesn't, for Gohan's never so much as contributed to anything. He doesn't talk to the kais, go to meetings or do anything of value. Neither does Rixas, really. Quell does it all.

Mori had been right. They should be doing something.

And so Gohan does –he sips his drink; something sweet and spicy.

 _What's the point…? What difference can_ I _make?_

Today's venture brings him to a new watering hole, one over-looking the canyon of a vast waterfall of purple. The locals are a strange-looking people to Gohan, scaled-skin, with horns and thin, pointed eyes. Their language is rough and totally non-understandable to him, and the few who speak a better known language do so in accents so thick that they may as well not bother speaking at all. Still, their drinks are divine.

And the abundance of other travellers makes it all the more worthwhile. With thinly veiled desire, Gohan watches a pretty nomad make their way along the aisle of seats.

Even though he can't do much about the mass murder, planet destructions and power dynamics… at least he can sample the universe's offerings.

_What else can I do?_

* * *

Even as the days fed into weeks and the weeks into months, Gohan's routine varies little. The moments blend together and living becomes existing, just from one flat beat to the next, the dance of life lilting as Gohan meanders drunkenly. And as much as he gets stronger, he feels his drive leave him –his personality warp. Just who is he these days? So long as it's not the foul god he's supposed to become then it's fine. But… but where does that leave his identity? Gohan's… just… he's just so confused.

The experiences of clubbing, of seeing the seedier side of life, of understanding the raw underbelly of how people truly live, it gives him direction, however weak it is. But even so, Gohan thrives, if only because he revels in the mortality of it.

Quell be damned. Gohan is mortal. He'll show the asshole how _mortal_ he truly is.

And so, Gohan's, once again, very much not sober.

Rixas is gone, vanished into a sea of faces on the dance floor, and the young saiyan had managed to give Roarg the slip hours ago after sneaking into the bar next door. He'd joined a group of misfit-types, smoking a drug similar in appearance to a common Earth cigarette. But Gohan imagines that a cigarette back home doesn't make you see colours explode across your vision, that they don't make you feel so light that you could be flying. The only common ground is the smoke, and if Gohan were to guess (as he never tried a cigarette), the ashy taste.

The group disbands, and he's left alone with the one girl who hasn't left his side all night.

It'd been inevitable that he'd go back to her hotel with her.

It's there that they continue to smoke the drug and take a rainbow of pills she'd collected. Gohan's sense of time starts to spiral, and he feels himself come and go throughout the night.

At one point, Gohan breathes in the heavy aroma of smoke, relishing how the ashy flavour expands about his chest, and then enjoying it burn his nostrils on the way out. Against the neon lights outside, its moody grey clouds climb against the window and fizzle away before it reaches the ceiling. He likes to watch it disappear. There's something soothing in how the toxicity just fades away, gone into the night.

The back of Gohan's head presses hard against his pillow as he watches another puff disappear. He then takes in another drag of the drug, one long and hard, and breathes out a ragged breath the exact moment she thrusts her body against his. He didn't even realise he'd been having sex.

"Am I boring you?" she asks, panting.

The neon signs illuminate her bare skin and the speckles of sweat atop. Gohan brushes his free hand against her damp waist and pulls her deeper, giving her his best smoulder. "I'm just savouring it."

She smiles and shakes her hips in Gohan's grasp. He laughs, and so does she when he breathes a cloud of smoke into her face.

"You're lucky you're hot because you're a fucking asshole," she says, and this time the laugh Gohan gives is genuine.

He flips her on to her back, taking sweet satisfaction at the fleeting shock in her eyes as he does so. The smoky drug is discarded, and then he shows her how much of an asshole he really is, how broken and shit he's become, when he sneaks out of her room after she falls asleep.

His forehead presses against the door and he takes in a ragged breath, still seeing the world in a flurry of colours.

 _What are you doing?_ Drawls a familiar voice, _his_ own familiar voice –except it's not Gohan's, it's… someone else's. It's _his._

Gohan's eyes blow wide, and he swivels, back falling against the walls as a battering of gold and blue assaults his vision. Only beyond those colours can he see the outline of a person; something faint and teasing, as though his eyes may be playing tricks on him.

_Why do you ravage our body with such substances?_

"Mori," Gohan breathes. He reaches out, feeling nothing except for the chipped paint of the hotel's walls.

_You have work to do._

The world spins. Blues churn into ugly splotches against the night, and Gohan feels his earlier drinks threaten reappearance. "You're no' real."

_I am about as real as you. Whether you are imagining me or whether I'm a real, actualized version within you is of little relevance. Only that I exist as an ideal is of importance. Me and you? We're one and the same, whatever lens you look at it through._

"Wh-What?"

_You drunk fool, you would understand if you had not drowned yourself in poison._

"You're not real," Gohan confirms, dragging his hand along the corridor's wall as he goes. The echo of steps follows him as he leads on. "I'm jus' thinkin' too much about you… and I'm having dreams… too many…"

_They're memories –stop disassociating yourself from them. They're yours, take ownership and face the music._

"I know wha' they are. I don't need you ter tell me to do anything –you're dead."

_I very much am not._

"I… god, I shouldn't have smoked tha' thing. I think I'm gonna' be sick."

 _You think immersing yourself in this culture of alcohol, drugs and self-pity will help you? It only makes Quell see you as inferior, makes Rixas worry -makes us_ useless _. Is becoming me really that painful for you that you'd drink yourself stupid?_

"I'll never become you," Gohan vows despite knowing this is all in his head. "An' I don't give a _fuck_ ," he spits, "what Quell thinks."

_Liar._

Gohan finds his feet unable to carry him a step further. It's here, in this mangy corridor that he reclines back against the filthy wall. Colours dance, bright and obnoxious, running down like the rain, and all he can do is watch.

_There is only so long you can delay this. Our duty is awaiting us. We must be the difference._

"No… No' real."

_One day, you will accept this. You will flush your mortal life away and embrace me, embrace what we must do to save them all._

"Oh my god," he groans, bringing his hands up, scraping fingers into his hairline, pulling and yanking hard. Hair nearly rips. " _Stop_."

_Your biggest fear is to lose yourself completely… but what do you think you are doing right now? You are subduing yourself with toxicity, drinking yourself into oblivion, refusing to grow and change. Even Gohan Son would have grown up should he have lived._

"I am G-"

_Pitiful, that is what you are. But worry not for this state is not permanent, it is but a growing pain for us until we reach our most powerful form yet._

"Arghhh… Get outta' my head…"

 _Do not be afraid._ The voice whispers. Gohan can practically feel the warmth of breath against his neck. _Like the dawn swallowing the moon and the night, it will happen naturally and without any contest. But… until then, you must stop inebriating yourself, otherwise I'll keep presenting myself vividly upon you if only to keep reminding you of our duty."_

"S-Stop."

Gohan's eyes squeeze shut, and the last thing he sees is a pair of gold amongst the darkness, watching him, seeing, waiting…

_Enjoy the dance whilst you can for even the most chaotic waltz comes to an end._

* * *

Soon, we'll be without the moon,  
Humming a different tune, and then,  
There may be teardrops to shed,  
So while there's music and moonlight,  
And love and romance,  
Let's face the music and dance.


	13. Throwing Rocks Down

**Age 780**

**Little Papa's Restaurant, Satan City, Earth**

Goten Son is having a pretty bad time. As an overall standard of life quality, he's currently rocking a hard one out of ten, but that's not the focus of his disgruntlement. No, that's the pretty, shiny lawyer sitting in front of him. And god, Goten's lip is curling. He can feel it going but he can't do anything to stop it.

So he stuffs another bread roll into his mouth just to give it something to do.

Here they all are; him, his mother, Videl and her… fiancé (the _lawyer_ ), in this stuck-up little restaurant in the middle of downtown Satan City, preparing to tuck down into some nasty replica of Western food and talk niceties. He can't stand it –he really doesn't think he can do this, because… the guy is just too…

Well, that's just it.

Goten would love to say that he's _awful_ or _horrible_ , but he can't.

The guy is annoyingly decent, so much so that Goten _knows_ that he must be fake, a slime ball. Mr. Lawyer is good-looking guy too; one of those pretty boys who undoubtedly spends double the amount of time in front of the mirror than any normal person should, hoping to best impress the world with how he styles his shiny hair. God, his suit probably cost more than Goten's entire wardrobe.

What a poser. What the hell does Videl see in him?

He would have guessed it to be the thickness of his wallet if this restaurant is anything to go by, except… she doesn't need a penny from anyone, does she? Not that Videl would stoop that low to date a guy for cash, Goten knows her better than that. She's smart and strong and doesn't need a smarmy pretty-boy lawyer with a stupid name.

What was it again? Oh, that's right. _Haruto._

Another bread roll is devoured.

"Goten," his smooth voice cuts across. "Videl says that you enjoy graphic design."

Goten doesn't want to answer, and he doesn't need to because his mother beats him to it.

"Oh, it's just a hobby," she dismisses. "Goten's actually aiming higher than that."

Over the other side of the table, dressed to impress in a blue one-piece, Videl tries not to look too awkward. Any other night would have Goten thinking that she looks pretty, but today her attire just annoys him. He hates her earrings. Videl never wears earrings. Why is she wearing them now?

"Oh, I think there's nothing wrong with aiming for a career in graphic design," _Haruto_ nonchalantly informs the group. "It's a much respected career. As they say _'without art_ _, the crudeness of reality would make the world unbearable'._ "

His mother, of course, is besotted despite earlier reservations. She giggles. _Giggles_. "Oh, of course! I totally agree. It's just… we hope for Goten to go into the academic field, much like yourself. It's just a less risky venture for him."

"Understandable," he commiserates. "It's rough business out there –in the real world."

The snooty bastard then takes a sip of his drink. Goten hopes he chokes on it.

"Still, there's nothing wrong with going into the arts," Videl voices up. "My best friend is studying Fine Art oversees, and she's already been guaranteed an apprenticeship with a printmaker when she returns. Her commissions are earning her good money already."

"It's a bit different when you're a girl," his mother replies, amused.

"What's that supposed to mean? Didn't _you_ used to be a fighter?"

"Years ago, years ago… But it was a different time then, and I could never really keep up with the boys."

Videl groans. " _Chi-Chi_ …"

Goten's feeling the second-hand embarrassment, and so he helps himself to yet another bread roll.

"Videl is working in a male-dominated field," Haruto comments, "and she's making strides. I think it's about breaking that barrier."

"Absolutely," Videl agrees. "If Goten likes the arts then so what? Sure, more girls are doing it these days, but most of the more famous artists back in the olden times were guys."

"It's a respected career, you know, Mrs. Son," adds Haruto, sending Goten a wink.

Goten wants to become a boring scholar now just to spite him.

"And Goten's pretty good at it. I've seen his stuff."

Nevertheless, his mother already has her own ideas.

"I'm sure Goten will make the correct decision when it comes to it," she says cryptically, but it's obvious that this is the end of that conversation. Goten's always known that his future lies in academics; there's no point challenging that, no matter how bad he is in study.

There's a quiet beat, and everyone suddenly seems thirsty all at once. They sip at their waters, unsure of where to go next. Goten, however, revels in the discomfort. Good, he thinks, it's good because they can all see what a bad idea this all is.

"So, are you going to the World Martial Arts Tournament this year, Videl?" his mother then asks, transparent in her hope of changing the subject. "I heard your father isn't competing this year?"

"He's got stomach issues –uh, for real this time," she chortles, anxious. "The doctor has banned him from competing this time around, which is good because he's getting kinda' too old for it. I'm gonna' go, though."

"Yes, he should start acting his age a bit more," his mother agrees, "How about you? Are you competing?"

Goten, sighs, finding himself zone in and out; he'd wanted to hear Videl's answer because actually, he had wanted to go too. He'd wanted to go with his dad –it'd sounded great. They wouldn't have had to fight, only spectate, eating hotdogs and popcorn and all that good stuff. So rare is it these days that they'd spend time doing anything that isn't fighting. Well, not that it matters now, because his dad had to go and ruin by going off with that stupid kai and ruin everything.

Then fine, screw him. If his dad doesn't want to be a dad then _screw_ him.

The teenager scrunches his napkin in his hands. He twists and churns and pulls at it until—

Cold fingers press over his. "Did you hear that, Goten?" Videl asks of him. Goten looks up to see three pairs of eyes staring at him expectantly.

He leans over the table, dropping the napkin and offering an uncomfortable sort of smile. "N-No, I didn't. What was that?"

 _Haruto_ laughs good-naturedly. "In a world of your own there, I see! I _said_ , that you must be interested in going to the tournament, right? Videl told me that you have a family history of martial arts. I just assumed."

"Oh, I, uh, I was thinking of going but I'm not too sure now."

"Really? You're more than welcome to come along with Videl and I."

Goten cannot think of anything worse. "Maybe."

"You could invite Trunks," Videl offers.

"Um, probably not. Trunks really hates that sorta' stuff."

"Fighting?" she laughs, "With a dad like Vegeta?"

It's true. The topic is a source of tension between Trunks and his dad. Goten knows it's not his place to bring it up. If Trunks had wanted Videl to know about it already then he would have already told her, so Goten settles for a shrug and a sip of his drink.

Videl gets the message, but sends him a strange look, one which lingers as the waiter starts placing down their orders on the table.

They eat their miniscule portions at an excruciatingly normal human pace, tempting Goten to lick his place clean before delving into the kitchen and helping himself to the contents of the fridges. His mother gives him a look, _the_ look. Sighing, he drinks another glass of water and melts into his chair. Only the promise of a second dinner by his mother prevents him from kicking up a fuss.

"So you both live on Fire Mountain?" asks Haruto with the guise of it sounding like the most interesting thing in the world. "What's that like?"

Goten pokes at the empty bread basket, only speaking when his mother nudges him. "It's fine."

"Not a lot to do round there, huh?"

"I guess not."

"He's busy with his studies mostly," his mother tells him. But it's likely the case that Videl had long ago told Haruto that Goten most definitely sneaks out of his room to hang around the neighbouring village.

Haruto hums, churning his spaghetti around and around. Goten watches, flat.

"What about you, Mrs. Son? What do you find yourself doing there?"

"Oh, me? I mostly read these days. There aren't many things for me to get up to in the castle. My father employs so many servants that I find myself unsure of what to do."

"Chi-Chi is one of those rare few who loves housework," Videl informs Haruto, smirking.

"There's nothing wrong with that," he scolds playfully.

"Videl, you're going to be married soon. Don't think you won't need to be stepping into a more traditional role. After kids, you'll find that it'll just happen naturally," Mother says as if butter wouldn't melt, as if she isn't lighting a fire right under the girl, but Goten can tell by the way Videl's clenching and unclenching her fists that a nerve has been struck. "I know you think I'm too traditional and narrow-minded, but after raising two boys, I think I know a thing or two about marriage and family."

Videl's face turns a variety of colours, but she somehow manages to keep her mouth shut.

Goten, however, doesn't.

"Maybe Videl doesn't even want kids," he says before he can stop himself.

"And why wouldn't she?"

Videl breathes hard. "Not all women want children, Chi-Chi."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Quite."

"So you don't?"

Haruto coughs and then waves a hand towards the waiter. "Another jug of water, please, and maybe a bottle of red."

" _I_ haven't decided," Videl replies, slowly, as though talking to a child. Goten can sense the rage simmering. Whilst they get on well usually, these arguments do come up from time to time. Fire meeting fire always results in someone getting burnt eventually. "But right now, I'm just focusing on my _career_."

"Oh, I know that, dear, but there's only such a small window to have kids that-"

"I'm twenty-three."

"I was nineteen when I had Goh—well, when I had my first."

 _Oh God_.

Goten lowers his head against his empty plate, wishing for it to be over. In the background, over the bickering, he hears Haruto opening the bottle of wine and pouring it into waiting glasses.

"Kids are not on the agenda. As I told my dad, I don't plan on any until my thirties, if I have any at all. You had Goten in your late twenties, right? And look at Bulma. She's not long since had Bulla."

His mother sighs. "Bulma Briefs is a woman of odd tastes. If you consider her husband, you'll understand exactly- oh, only a little wine for me, thank you, Haruto."

Videl laughs, but it's a forced sound. "Yeah, Vegeta isn't exactly my type either." There's a smacking of her lips. "Goten, would you like to try some wine? It's sweet; I think you'd like it."

Goten lifts his head to see Haruto already pouring him a moderate serving. Before his mother comments, the lawyer says; "He's old enough to have a small taster with his meal. Give it a try, Goten."

In the dim candle-lit room, he watches as Videl takes a sip from the glass, looking all refined, talking about marriage and babies and acting not at all like herself. It pisses him off. Who the hell is this woman? What has this asshole done to her? No, he doesn't want any fancy wine, thanks. He doesn't want anything from this man.

The only thing Goten _wants_ is to go home!

"I'm going to the bathroom."

The chair scrapes beneath him and he scurries to the toilets before he can catch any of their eyes. There, he encloses himself in a cubicle and scrolls through social media just to give his mind something to focus on. Out there, he can't breathe, he can't even look at Videl without feeling his stomach churn in fury.

This is all happening so fast. She shouldn't be marrying that poser. The guy is so clearly fake and awful, and such a douche that it's shocking to Goten that Videl's blind to it. Yet, here she is, acting all different. Goten's seen Videl mucking about in the dirt, shouting at sporting referees, bantering with the rest of them. When did that all change? When she started swapping boots for heels? When she went to university?

He groans, running a hand through his mop of hair. It's because she and that Haruto guy work together, isn't it? He probably got her the job in the first place. He'd most likely planned it for ages, undoubtedly pestered and hounded her until she agreed to go out with him. Videl's never been interested in other guys before, not since… well, not since _him_.

Goten thumbs at his phone for a further five minutes with the hope of cooling down. When he feels suitably calm, he leaves the bathroom only to bump headfirst into the person he'd just been trying to forget about.

"You: outside," Videl demands, pointing a finger at him.

She leads him out of a side door and into the surprising bite of evening. If she didn't look so angry at him, he'd give her his jacket.

"What's your deal, Goten?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you being so awkward?"

Goten's lip pulls up. "I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Why are you acting like a little asshole? Don't you like him? If you don't, I don't understand why, he's been nothing but nice to you all night."

"I didn't say I didn't like him!"

"You don't have to!" she snaps back. "I can see it all over your face!"

"I didn't say anything!"

"You look like you've just had your ass smacked."

"I… I… Fine, I don't like him. Are you happy?"

"No, I'm not!" she exclaims. Several other customers outside of the restaurant spare them a look, and Videl remembers herself, remembers the girly, quieter version of herself from the table. She breathes a languid stretch of breath. "Why? What has he done to _offend_ you so much?"

"He's a poser, a total asshole… like, he sounds all fancy and posh, and…" It all floods out of him. Now she's asked, he can't withhold it. "He's clearly such a money-bags, all cash and no –no, er, no edge. He's just so gooey and friendly, and is making blinky-cute eyes at my mother to try and win her heart too. Talk about two-faced."

"Goten," she grinds out, "you're telling me you don't like him because he's… _too nice_?"

"Way too nice. He's fake."

"Oh my God, Goten. Are you stupid? He's acting nice to _impress_ your mother. He wants her to _like_ him. I didn't think I'd have to explain this to you."

"He's so obviously in love with himself," Goten continues, hard and fast, "He looks like one of those Vogue models."

"Jesus Christ."

"And he's made you like _him_! Look at you! You're wearing lipstick!"

"I wear lipstick to work!"

"Because he's there! You work together, right? Why are you changing for him?!"

"I don't run around in gym clothes everywhere, Goten! Sometimes, I put a little effort in, too!"

That's all well and good and all, but Goten knows that Videl isn't like this. She's a tomboy, a fighter, one of the boys. If she was doing this not for that asshole then it'd be fine, but… but she's not!

"He's clearly trying to get something from you, or change you, or –or-"

"You're fourteen years old, yet you're acting like you're five! You're just bitching about stuff that doesn't make sense –you haven't even given him a chance!" She clicks her tongue, crossing her arms over one another, hands running up and down. Even angry, Goten really does want to give her his jacket, but he doesn't make a move when her eyes turn to steel. "I don't get why you're freaking out over this."

"Who's freaking out?" he challenges, sounding obtuse.

"Well, not your mum, that's for sure. I thought _she'd_ be the tough nut to crack, but you're the one who's kicking up the biggest fuss –more than Chi-Chi, heck, even more than my _dad_!"

"I don't like seeing you acting like someone you're not," he tells her. In response, she groans. Her hands slide down her cheeks, and that's when he notices her fingernails have been manicured, polished and looking as pretty as the rest of her. "I don't even know who you are even more, Videl."

It was supposed to be barbed, but the effect was weak. She just stares at him like he's grown an extra head, as if he's stupid, as if she gets something he doesn't.

"I'm an adult woman, and you're still a child. You don't know who I am, what I do, or what I want, not really, because I don't owe you any of that information, do you understand?"

No, he doesn't! "What the hell, Videl?! Don't talk down to me -I'm not some little kid! I know that you can do whatever you want. You don't need to tell me that!"

"Then stop policing me, you snot! If I want to wear lipstick, I don't owe you any reasons why! So what if I want to look nice for the man I love? So what if I want to wear a dress sometimes, or not run around looking like a teenager? Goten, people grow up, people _change_."

"Well, you never changed for Gohan!"

Her mouth drops, vacant, and so does his. He did not mean to say that –Goten had not meant at all to say that.

But he can't take it back now. "You… you never got girly-fied for him," he continues weakly, gesturing to her pretty dress. "You never talked about babies or… or weddings, or…"

"Goten," she breathes hard, "I was _seventeen_. Gohan and I… we… weren't even together that long."

His brain is screaming at him to abort. How everything keeps coming back to his brother recently… it's… it's unfair, it's painful. Goten doesn't want to talk about this, but now that it's on the table, he finds himself with little choice. "He loved you," he bites out, "you know that, right?"

" _Goten,"_ she groans yet again. "Stop it."

"Did you even love him?"

" _Goten_!"

"You're changing for that asshole but you wouldn't for Gohan, huh? What does that say-"

_**SLAP!** _

Of course, it doesn't hurt, well, not physically. The shock of it has his head tilted, eyes wide, breath bated.

She… she just hit him. When he turns to look at her, she looks about ready to do it again. Her hand, bright red against the evening light, wobbles up and down in anticipation. Goten really thinks she's about to do it again until it drops, flat against her side. "Grow up," she manages, ragged. "Do you just expect me to not get with _anyone_ , Goten? Don't I get to happy? Don't I get to move on?" Her voice hitches, and she turns to push at his shoulder. "Gohan happened years ago! I—I can't keep living in the past and pretend that he controls my life because he doesn't… not like he does with you guys."

"He-He… d-"

"I want to be with Haruto. I want to move on, Goten… Don't you?"

The memory of him and Trunks sitting in Gohan's room returns, hitting him with full force, reminding him of Trunks' plea, begging him to let go, be happy. But… but…

He looks at her. She really is pretty, all shiny and special, dazzling like she's straight out of a movie. Even as she's teary and scowling at him, Goten can't help but notice.

Has this ever been about Gohan? He'd only brought that up to hurt her.

Goten recalls many a time he's caught himself staring at her, defending her from guys, thinking about her… he thinks about her a lot, and not really in a sisterly way, not in a way he knows he's supposed to.

"Videl, I really hate that guy," he says, meek. His throat constricts and he shuffles under her glare. "I… I just get so angry when I think about it, and… and I don't think it's exactly about… about my brother."

It hasn't been, not for a long while. Goten clasps at his chest, his heart hammering to get out along with the admission. Goten needs to say something -he needs to tell her the truth.

He hears her take in a breath.

"Videl, I think I like you."

"Fuck," she says on the outbreath.

"I… I think that's what it must be. I've known for a while, I think. It's ju-"

"No, you don't," she tells him. "You absolutely do not."

But he does. His stomach does flips at the sight of her, she's always beautiful to him, and any man she talks about makes him see red. Even when she mentions Gohan, it hurts, but not necessarily for the reasons one would think why.

"Don't marry that guy," he then says with a renewed energy. "Please, don't. I don't like him. I really don't. I won't like any of them."

"Oh my God."

"You're amazing, and I think I've liked you for a long while, since forever, really. Please, Videl, don't marry him."

When he reaches towards her, she slaps his hand away. "Goten, stop it. Just stop it. You're acting crazy."

"Maybe not now, but in the future… maybe we could…"

"Goten, knock it off. In no world can we… absolutely no way." There's a beat of silence, only dying because of the ambience of violin playing somewhere in the distance. As the music sings, her expression softens. "You're not thinking right, Goten. This is just a teenage crush."

"No, it's not."

"It'll fade."

"Videl…"

She takes his hands slowly, maybe with a little trepidation, as if fearful that he's about to gobble her up. But he wouldn't do that; he wouldn't ever do anything that she wouldn't want him to. "Goten, I'm really sorry but there is no way I could ever see you more than a little brother. I love you, but just not like that. You're too young –you're just a kid, a teenager. It just wouldn't ever work out."

"A teenager…" Goten mumbles.

"I'm really sorry, but I love Haruto and I'm going to marry _him_." She swallows the dryness aback of her throat. "He's not Gohan, no. But he's kind and wonderful and he's the person I've _chosen_ to be with. Do you understand?"

 _No_ , he thinks bitterly, because Haruto doesn't appreciate her like he does, doesn't have a shared anguish like they do… doesn't _like_ her like he does.

But before Goten can answer, he feels his stomach drop.

His head spins around to where he feels the chaotic energies of two men fighting in the distance, somewhere far away, probably near the lookout.

Her hands let go of his. "What is it?"

"It's my dad… and… Vegeta?"

* * *

**Age 780**

**The Lookout, Earth**

**Sometime earlier…**

Goku yawns, stretching back and admiring the evening's half-crescent moon. From behind, a background of twinkling stars can be seen hidden in the depths of pink and orange, hinting at another sunny day tomorrow. By this time, Goku's usually starting to get ready for bed (unless he's training somewhere specific). But today, he accepted the summoning by the Supreme Kai and is currently waiting for him, along with Vegeta and Piccolo. Dende, of course, is present, but he mostly converses with Mr. Popo as Goku and the others stand by. Piccolo occasionally joins them, and Goku can hear their voices carry all the way over to him as he sits at the edge.

Vegeta sits somewhere on the other side, away, far away, pretending that Goku, in fact, does not exist as he broodily waits for the Supreme Kai to arrive. How Piccolo had persuaded him to come, Goku has not the foggiest, but here he is, ready to take on another crisis apparently facing Earth. In the couple of weeks that have followed since becoming aware of such a crisis, Goku's learned very few things about these mysterious and unwelcome guests of Earth. The Zealties, as they're apparently known, have been spotted in sporadic places around the planet. Their motivations are unknown, which begs the question for Goku; why are they so bad if they haven't done anything yet? Nobody has been hurt, nothing has been damaged… so what's the big deal?

But whether they'd done anything wrong yet is of little worry to him, well, unless they're involved in Gohan's disappearance, which might just be a real possibility with how they're appearing and disappearing everywhere. And if they're not connected, then Goku's more than happy to help anyway… except, for a price this time. If the kais need his help again, they're going to have to help him too.

Goku wants his son back.

Another gust dissolves into the night sky, fresh from his chest, as he watches the darkness creep ever closer. The chill makes him feel even more tired, makes him yearn for his bed, and just as he's about to nod off, Goku hears his name being called, and then again, except less nicely.

"Get up, Kakarot, you slouch."

Vegeta's boot digs into his side, threatening to topple him right over the edge. Goku knows it's not an empty threat. The guy would seriously do it.

"Alright, I'm awake. I'm," another yawn takes him, "awake."

"Goku, I'm glad you were able to join us," greets Shin as they approach.

He gives an indolent wave, dragging each foot as he goes. Piccolo appears, alongside Dende and Mr. Popo. They look troubled, but say little about what they must have been speaking about. When Goku sends the guardian of Earth a smile, the latter barely strains his lips before looking anywhere else but at him.

"I do apologize. I know it's late," the kai goes on to say, "but I have had little time to spare these days, what with the most recent activity of the Zealties and the upheaval in the Sacred World of the Kais."

"Is it because of the Zealites?" Goku asks.

"Somewhat, yes," he says, looking more tired and ancient than Goku's ever seen of him. "It is a most cumbersome situation, indeed."

"Who are these Zealites? I don't understand how they're _our_ problem," Vegeta gruffly pushes, "If they're bothering the kais then why can't _they_ be the ones to clean up their own messes?"

"If they're on Earth then they're our problem, too, Vegeta," Piccolo snaps.

"I did not sign up to be some kind of Earth janitor, trailing after each and every idiot who dares show their face here."

"I think it may be a little more than that, Vegeta," Shin says cordially. "I believe the situation could become quite serious if we leave it unresolved."

"So, you've spotted these -what are they called, _Zealites_? What a stupid name. So you've spotted these Zealites going about Earth doing what, exactly?"

"We don't know."

"We… We don't know? What?! What the hell am I doing here then? Why are you wasting my time with this?"

"Calm down, you idiot," Piccolo snipes, "Do you think we want to be here, too?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Namek, do you have some plant brethren calling out for your return back in the forest?"

"Put a sock in it, _Vegeta_."

"Please, let's not," Shin tries, tone soft, "I don't have long here and I'd rather not play spectator to an argument."

"Let's be respectful," Mr. Popo suggests, with Dende nodding earnestly behind. "I don't want any fighting on this lookout. It's a sacred place and must be treated as so."

"Whatever," Vegeta scoffs, "how about we just get to it then?"

"Of course." Shin spares them all a look, but spends a particularly long time focusing on Goku, as if he's the one he's truly trying to appeal. This is good, this is very good for Goku, because that just means he'll have more leverage to get what he wants. "For several weeks now, months most likely, the Earth has been visited by what we believe to be a group of individuals naming themselves; _'Zealites'_. We've been unsure on their goals, especially here on a rural planet such as Earth, but we've been trying to follow their activity as it's been predominant for some time now."

Goku strokes at his chin. "Activity?"

"General appearances for the most part," he answers, "they have been observed in a variety of sacred areas, entering most impossible places and being placed when certain artefacts have found themselves missing. Few attacks have taken place, but there are some worthy of note. Three attacks happened in the Sacred World of the Kais, at least one in the Realm of the Almighty, and a few in the mortal realm."

"And these Zealites, they're here… on Earth?"

"That's correct, Goku. Or at least, we believe they're planning to _do_ something here."

"So if there were attacks in these sacred places, how would they have gotten access inside?" Piccolo asks of him, putting forward a very reasonable question in Goku's opinion. "Wouldn't that mean they have someone on the inside?"

"Well, that certainly goes without saying. A kai _must_ be involved."

"Then _why_ are you dragging _us_ into your mess?" growls Vegeta. He spits down, ignoring Mr. Popo's abject look of horror. "I have no interest in politics of any kind. I don't give a rat's ass what this gang of idiots plan on doing against the kais. Don't you have your own defenders for this?"

Shin sighs. "Realistically, you three are most likely some of the universe's greatest warriors. It's not praise. It's the truth. I would not be coming to you without good reason, you know that. I have also spoken with several deities higher than myself… they're less than interested in helping our cause, sadly."

"Higher deities?" Dende questions, "How much higher… does it go?"

Mr. Popo has the answer, surprisingly. "There are branches of deities, Dende. Much like yourself, other guardians watch over their own planets but are of no less importance than one another. This can be said for the many gods that reside out there in the multiple realms."

"Some do rank higher than others, however," continues the Supreme Kai, "and heavens, do they know it. Many of the gods… do not look too fondly upon the kais."

Goku doesn't get it. "So they won't help you, just 'cause they don't like you?"

"The history is muddy at best. It's not something I want to get into, so I'll just say that it came of little surprise that they did not want to assist us. We even have word that that one of these attacks was on a god himself, but still… nothing."

"Politics," Vegeta snorts.

"I suppose you're right," Shin sighs, "yet there's little I can do to persuade them right now." He taps at his purple lip, eyeing the group, anxious. "There has been _one_ god who has shown a keen interest in helping, but I do not wish to encourage him. He's… he's not quite ideal for this sort of situation."

"A god?" Dende gasps, "What sort of god? More important than a kai?"

"Yes, he ranks far above the kais in importance. In fact, many of the kais fear him, and rightly so. He is a very dangerous individual indeed."

"Is he strong?" Goku asks.

"Very, most definitely stronger than anyone you would have faced before."

"Oh yeah?" Vegeta speaks up, now newly invested. "And who is this incredible individual, this _god_?"

Shin leans in as if with secret, breath bated, as though he doesn't even want to utter the name. "His name is Lord Beerus, God of Destruction."

The reaction from Vegeta is immediate. It's as if someone had lit a rocket right under him. He's up and shaking the kai by the front of his robes in an almost comedic fashion. "Did you say Lord Beerus?!"

"Do you know him?"

"Know him?! Of course I know him! Years ago, that maniac showed up before the King of Saiyans, threatening our existence, demonstrating incredible power rivalling nobody! Scouters exploded, people collapsed –even being in the room space as him was like having your existence being drawn out of your very body! Nobody believed us when we told them about him –and even now, I'd thought… I thought it may not have been real in the first place."

"Then I'm pleased that you understand the severity associated with his cooperation."

"We are not having that _monster_ on this planet!"

"Is he really that bad?" Goku questions.

Apparently, that's a mistake because it looks like Vegeta is absolutely ready to throttle him into next week. "Don't you dare encourage him here! If you bring him here, Kakarot, that is the _end_ of Earth!"

"Wah, I don't get what the big deal is."

"He's the _God of Destruction_ ," Shin says slowly, "he's a _destroyer_."

"Eh? What's that?"

"He does not kill his enemies, he _destroys_ them. No reincarnation, not afterlife, nothing. That is it."

"Oh."

"Yes, _oh_ ," mocks Vegeta, "so before you get any big ideas and endanger us all by inviting our maker round for afternoon snacks, actually use that empty beach ball on your neck and _think_."

"But he wants to help us," tries Goku. What's the big problem with that?

Shin actually coughs at this, looking paler than a few moments ago. "Lord Beerus only has one method in how he deals with these sorts of things, and that is to, well, destroy them."

"Destroy the Zealites?"

"And Earth along with them," Piccolo finishes, putting the pieces together for Goku. The namekian raps his fingers against his arms. "So basically, if he gets involved, he's going to destroy Earth if he finds it the easiest method in eradicating the Zealites."

Shin nods. "That… is my belief, yes."

"So you're basically giving us no choice in helping you?" Vegeta grunts, brows pressed harshly. "What a mess. Where the hell are we even going to start looking for these guys?"

"Well, what locations have they been spotted in?" Dende asks.

Mr. Popo raises a finger. "Is it just Earth? How about neighbouring planets such as Mars?"

"What could they want from Earth? The dragon balls? They're the only contender I can think of," Piccolo puts forward.

As they talk, Goku finds himself listening, watching, as they share ideas. Only when his silence draws on does Shin try to involve him. "And what do you think of this, Goku?"

Feeling a little awkward, he scratches at the back of his head. "Oh, erm, I didn't agree to help you guys just yet."

"What?!"

"I mean, of course, I _want_ to help, it's just…"

Piccolo snarls, quick to advance and grab him by the scruff. "Oh dear God, Goku, you must be joking."

"I'm not."

"Kakarot, do you have any blasted idea what you're going to enable if you don't assist them? What the hell kind of reason would you not help them for?"

The namekian chucks Goku back down with force, and then spares a glance at the other saiyan. "What reason do you think it is? It's the only thing he's been pestering about over the last six years."

Vegeta's face turns to stone impressively fast. "You're joking… What the hell, Kakarot?! You cannot use this time to barter for your dead son's soul!"

"I just want to know what happened," he replies levelly. "I'm not even saying that I want Gohan returned to me. I just want to know what _happened_ to him. Once I know, then I can-"

"Goku," Shin says, soft, "you know about as much as I do on the matter. If I could help you more, I would…"

"We know what happened to him!" Vegeta roars, "The little coward sliced himself up and then got himself a one-way ticket to Otherworld."

It never fails to get a rise out of Goku, never ever. He turns, fists poised ready to strike out. "Gohan would _never_!"

"Well, he clearly did, you brain-dead dolt. We're all sick of repeating ourselves. It's not our fault that you won't listen to reason, but at least try and open your ears because I'm going to say it one last time for those in the back; Gohan is dead because he killed himself, and he's _not_ coming back!"

"Vegeta," Mr. Popo chastises, "is there any need for such cruelty?"

"Gohan wouldn't do that! He had no reason to!"

"But the evidence suggests otherwise!" Vegeta snaps back. "Even the namek couldn't argue against that back when he was in your little camp. At least _he_ eventually listened to sense."

"Knock it off, Vegeta," Piccolo hisses.

"No, he needs to hear this because he's endangering all of us now. If he doesn't cooperate because of something like _this_ then he's practically inviting Beerus to destroy us."

"Vegeta's right," Shin agrees, "if Beerus feels the need to appear on Earth then everything could possibly start going south very fast."

"Then _help_ me out, Supreme Kai," Goku implores, "I know you have connections that can at least _find_ Gohan. We don't even know what happened to his soul. King Kai and King Yemma both haven't seen anything up there. Something must've gone wrong."

"Then he probably ended up in hell," Vegeta off-hands, testing Goku's frazzling nerves.

An urge to slap him back down to earth very nearly takes him. Between thin lips, Goku grits out; "He is _not_ in hell."

"He's not, you're right," Shin placates, sending Vegeta a measured look. "Suicide victims don't actually end up there, it's a myth."

Vegeta snorts. "He isn't a victim. He knew what he was doing."

"Gohan didn't commit suicide!"

"Whatever the case," the Supreme Kai interrupts, parting the saiyans with tensed hands, "Gohan isn't there. I've already told you my theory on what I think happened, and you didn't like hearing it the first time, Goku, so I don't think you'll like hearing it again."

No, Goku does _not_ want to hear that again. Years ago, when the wounds were fresher and the anguish still touched everyone, Shin had exhausted his options in trying to locate Gohan, Goku knew this. After months of digging, nothing was found. Roads ended up being dead ends, and the only sniff of what could have happened was a flimsy theory offered by the Kai himself.

Shin had suggested that Gohan had simply been reborn straight away, as is the case with souls not having lived a full life or lived a life that's neither black nor white. At first, it was a theory Goku considered possible. It'd haunted him, plagued his dreams that his son was now no more. But as time marched forward, Goku thought about it more. King Yemma would have known if Gohan had been reborn, would have seen his soul at least turn up at the check-in station –but no, he didn't know anything either.

And so, contentedly, Goku thinks that this theory is just as much hogwash as the suicide one.

"Or, you could try asking your god friends," he tries, "I'd be fine with asking Beerus if he does come by."

"You selfish _idiot_ ," Vegeta seethes, "would you sacrifice everyone else just to learn the truth? You're not the only person with children!"

"Gohan wouldn't want that, either," Piccolo inputs, cordial.

"Goku, you'd be endangering the entire planet," Dende adds, "As Guardian of Earth, I just can't support you no matter how much I, too, miss Gohan."

"And what about your other son?" Vegeta challenges, "Do you even remember that you have another one of those? I probably see the brat more often than you do! He's always moping around, feeling sorry for himself, acting like a shitty influence over my own. It's about time you start taking responsibility instead of chasing the coward traitor who left us!"

Shin gasps. "Vegeta, hold your tongue! At this rate, you're throwing rocks down!"

"No, I'm sick of it! Why do we all tip-toe around this clown when he needs to move on?" Vegeta presses forward and jabs a hard finger into the other saiyan's chest. "Gohan is dead. He's dead and not coming back no matter, and guess what –he wanted it that way, or he wouldn't have killed himself in the first place!"

Goku shoves him away. "Oh yeah, Vegeta? What would you do if it'd been Trunks who'd apparently killed himself? Would you have believed that?"

A derisive bark leaves him. "Trunks wouldn't do that –never. He isn't weak."

"And Gohan wouldn't have done it either!"

"Pah! The boy had always been soft!"

"He'd been stronger than _you_!"

"He'd been lazy, unfocused and _soft_. Physically, he'd been strong, but emotionally? Weak."

Goku bares his teeth, shoving even harder. "Be quiet! You don't know what you're even talking about!"

Vegeta grabs the oncoming wrist. "Let me tell you this, we've all been thinking it…"

"Vegeta," Piccolo growls, warning.

"Shut up, he has to _learn_." The wrist bends back and Goku feels himself leaning with it. "I'm doing you the nicety that none of the others will. I'll be honest here, Kakarot, I respect you enough to say it to your face because you need to hear it.

Sure, it may have been a shock to us all when we first found out about Gohan, but the more we all thought about it, the more it made sense. He'd always been soft _and sensitive_ and far too innocent for everything he went through. The kid faced more battles and life-and-death situations than warriors triple his age, killed more people than his soft heart could handle –and that clearly caught up with him. I'll be straight with you, I respected the kid for taking it all on the chin, for his power, for a strength all his own. But that respect _died_ along with him.

You most likely don't know this, but after your death, the kid hadn't been right then, either. Bulma called it depression, but all I saw was a kid looking half-dead, walking around, empty-eyed and meek. He'd been on the funny for a while –the namek can back me up on this- and it hadn't been until the birth of your second kid that Gohan had shown any sense of recovery. See, the one thing I'll give Gohan is that even _he_ realized that the world must go on, and that he had to stop being a depressed layabout for the sake of Goten."

"He's right, Goku. You're messing things up with Goten," Piccolo adds, as if he's got any right to comment on either of his sons' needs.

"Don't you think I know that?" Goku hisses, drawing his hand back.

But Vegeta pulls harder. "Like I said, he'd always been soft and weak of heart, not able to cope with all the hell he'd been forced to endure. I thought he'd be alright. He'd been a saiyan. It's in our blood. But then, he proved himself a bigger disappointment than even I thought possible."

"Gohan wouldn't!"

"You brain-dead fool, accept the truth! Accept the truth so we can stop these Zealites, so we don't end up bringing a power-crazy monster like Beerus here!"

But Goku is livid. He keeps trying to snatch his arm back but it won't budge. "Bring him here; bring him here so I can ask him about Gohan myself!"

"YOU IDIOT! Would you really sacrifice us for the sake of Gohan's memory? Would you really trade your living son for your dead one?!" Vegeta roars, equally furious, "At this rate, Goten will follow in Gohan's footsteps and end up SLICING HIMSELF DEAD TOO!"

Goku feels Vegeta's nose crunch beneath his fist before registering that he'd even moved. Of course, the rebuttal comes about as quickly as expected. Goku feels something in his jaw crumble only moments later, followed by something in his side twinge when a sharp kick follows suit. He cries out, churning and pulling his other arm free, just to be yanked down into an awaiting knee.

It turns out that Vegeta had been anticipating this sort of reaction all along, possibly even aiming for such a thing.

"Stop this at once!" Mr. Popo demands of them, but it's too late.

Goku's chest is beating ten to the dozen and a fire has been lit under him. He's ready for this –he's _needed_ this.

The Supreme Kai is as equally displeased as Mr. Popo. "Calm down! Both of you!"

"I'll knock some sense into Kakarot, it's fine," Vegeta snarls, spitting red. "It's long overdue anyway."

"We do not have time for this! The Zealites have been particularly active-"

"I'll make you eat your words, Vegeta," Goku breathes, panting hard. "I'll make you sorry."

"Knock it off, you idiots!" Piccolo shouts at the exact moment Goku blasts forward.

By the time Goku reaches Vegeta, they're both transformed into super saiyans, glowing bright against the darkness of night. Their radiance only clashes with the brutality they're both displaying, ragged as it cuts into the black with sharp juts and flashes. Whilst Vegeta has jumped straight into the ascended form, Goku's staying true to the first level, enjoying the other saiyan's frustration at the lack of meeting him level-wise.

But Goku doesn't need the second form, doesn't need to meet Vegeta there –he's already matching Vegeta in the first stage, catching each throw and dodging the other saiyan's brutish attacks, something which drives the latter crazy. It's funny how Goku's clearly the more enraged one, yet he still has such a better control over the fight.

When Vegeta goes for the low kick, Goku jumps high and uses gravity to pull himself down with the aim of a more savage strike. The impact rings out, shockwaves follow, and Goku's elbow pierces down against the back of Vegeta's neck as if it has every entitlement to be there.

There's a cry as Vegeta balks, falling down, but he doesn't stop, doesn't quit. If anything, the man's fire burns stronger and he swivels and catches Goku by his knees and brings him down too.

"Stop it!" Shin cries, "Stop this madness!"

Others are shouting too, but neither stops. In fact, soon, it escalates and they're both flying upwards, far above the lookout and into the clouds, fists flaying and flying. Wisps of cold pass them as they climb higher and higher. No shouting can be heard now, only the hush of wind as they exchange attacks, pulling and pushing in a vacuum of flurrying movements.

Goku does hear Vegeta cry out, however, when he lands a fist into the gut, impacting the prince and sending him sideways in a barrelling rapid motion. There's yet another cry when Goku flashes next to him, kicking him with twice the muster and then again and again, kicking him until a final one sends straight back down to the lookout.

A whirlwind of debris flies back, striking against Goku as an eruption of dirt, plants, concrete and all the likes explode with a bang. Still, they're not done. Vegeta courses through the smog, fist aimed true, pelting Goku across the face over and over until he's stopped forcibly. Ki ruptures out, forming into tight balls of yellow, and fly sporadically in the other saiyan's direction. Several land instantly, burning him, whilst others chasing and only kiss at him when he releases Goku from his clutches.

It's just enough time for Goku to strike him hard across the chest, backslapping him back down against the marble of the lookout once more. This time, he follows, touching down and making himself ready for the prince's next assault.

"Stop this! Stop it!" The Supreme Kai begs of them once more. "We do not have the time!"

Goku wipes the fresh streak of blood from across his forehead, and then powers up to the ascended form just to show his determination, or perhaps just to spite them all. No one can stop him now. Vegeta's gone too far this time.

"Please, you're ruining the lookout!" Mr. Popo next pleads. "Oh no, not my magnolias!"

Plants tear from the soil, spinning, curling around Goku as he powers up stronger and stronger.

"See sense, Goku!" Dende also attempts, "Gohan would not want this! You know this better than anyone!"

Vegeta barrels free from the debris, more furious than ever, teeth grit and eyes manic. He charges and actually manages a good hit, burying a fist into the orange of Goku's gi with such force that Goku nearly stumbles down to one knee. He doesn't, of course, and instead tries to use the moment to his advantage by pulling Vegeta closer, whipping him round and lodging him back into the ground.

Bones crackle under Goku's grip, dislocating fiercely as Vegeta burrows deeper into the floor. Just as Goku's about to bring Vegeta's head up again to smash it down, he feels a clawed hand wrap around his wrist.

"That's enough, damn it," Piccolo sneers. "This pitiful display, from both of you, is the true disappointment."

"Let go, Piccolo," Goku growls. Vegeta needs to learn.

"No, Goku. _You_ let go."

Vegeta backs up, pulling his head down before slamming it back up and against the softness of Goku's nose. There's an immediate explosion of blood and Goku does, in fact, let go. For a moment, he thinks that Vegeta is going to use the moment to attack again and so readies himself, only to stop, nose in hand, and watch as the prince moves away from him.

"We're not done here!" Goku cries out from behind his palm. Piccolo pulls at him, but it's of little use. The namekian hasn't even got a fraction of his strength –none of them have. "Vegeta, I said we're not done!"

The prince turns, appearing dreadful. He's sodden in red and it drips down liberally over wounds Goku would love to inflict over and over again.

"Yes, Kakarot, we are."

He parades forward, dodging Mr. Popo and Dende, who try their best to restrain him. "Fight me!"

"Not like this," he spits, "I'm not fighting over this anymore. If you want to chase your fantasies then go ahead and do it, but I refuse to indulge it! Help or don't help the planet then, fine! Have it your way! The Earth doesn't need someone like you anymore. We'll do it ourselves."

Goku's chest depletes and he can't help the humourless laugh which follows. "All this because I just beat you? Talk about a sore loser."

Vegeta scowls; a deep and cold look, spared only for those very rare times of true dislike. Goku remembers seeing it last many, many years ago. "I just realised, fighting you… that whilst you are currently stronger than me, you're also… like Gohan was, _mentally_ weak."

"Y-You bastard," he breathes, and just as he goes to stampede forward for the next attack, a cry follows.

At first, it doesn't register, but when the Supreme Kai, Mr. Popo and Piccolo all crowd around Dende, does he realize that something is wrong. He joins them, transforming down and kneeling beside his fallen friend.

"What is it, Dende?" Piccolo asks; "What happened? Are you alright?"

Dende looks up, pale and wide-eyed. Sweat trickles down green. "I just felt the power leave me… It disappeared… I… I…" He turns to Mr. Popo, grabbing at the genie's Nehru jacket. "The dragon balls, Mr. Popo… they're gone."


End file.
